


Paisley Higgs

by SiriusLove1994



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: American Students at Hogwarts, F/M, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Love, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Multi, Texas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 39,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29568045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiriusLove1994/pseuds/SiriusLove1994
Summary: When Paisley Higgs is forced move from America to England the summer before her sixth year, she leaves behind five years of bad grades, embarrassing moments, and her best (and only) friend, Matt. But what will she find in the new small English town she calls home? How will she learn to navigate the ins and outs of socialization without her best friend there to save her? And what will she do when two local boys with a knack for trouble cross her path?
Relationships: Alice Longbottom/Frank Longbottom, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. The stench of failure

I fiddled with the golden Gordian Knot that fastened my blue and cranberry robes and tried to focus on my History of Magic exam, doing my best to tune out the horrible scritch-scratching of quills, rustling parchment, and squeaking of Rodger Picquery's restless foot against leg of his desk.

But it wasn't working out so well.

_Scritch-scratch._

I tried to read question number 7.

_Rustle, rustle._

_'_ The Giant Wars began in the year—'

_Squeak, squeak, squeak._

—'after the fall of which empire'—

_Scritch-scratch._

No, wait. The falling empires was part of question 8.

_Rustle, rustle._

I wondered why they always referred to empires _falling,_ as if they were just too clumsy to stay together when in all likelihood it was related to a complex series of social and political factors that—

_Squeak, squeak._

Shoot. Back to number 7. 'The Giant Wars began in the year—'

_Squeak, squeak._

I lost my place. No worries. I'd just read it again. 'The Giant Wars began in the year—'

_Squeak! Squeak!_

_'_ The Giant Wars—

_Rustle, rustle._

_Squeak!_

'—began—'

_Squeak, squeak!_

'—in the year—'

_Scratch-scratch!_

_Squeak!_

_'—_ after the fall of—'

_Squeak!_

Rodger started tapping his quill against his desk.

_Tap, tap, tap, tap_

_Squeak! Squeak! Squeak!_

'The Giant—'

_Rustle, rustle_

_'_ Wars—'

_Tap, tap, tap_

_'_ Began—'

_Scritch-scratch_

_'_ In—'

_Squeak! Squeak! Squeak! Squeak! Squeak—!_

"UGH!"

I'd had enough.

I whipped around to face the boy behind me and said, in a not so quiet voice, "Rodger! For the love of Merlin, would you knock it off?!"

He, of course, looked up at me with a familiar surprised expression that said he had no idea what he had done to incite such anger... which, of course, only made me more upset.

He mouthed an incredulous, "What?" and I drew breath, intending to relate, in detail, how very irritating his restless foot was when—

"Miss Higgs! Turn around and keep your eyes on your own paper!" Professor Tibbs squawked.

I looked up at the plump woman in her lime green sweater and could feel my cheeks heating up. I wanted to tell her that I wasn't trying to cheat—that I knew all the answers—that I just needed stupid Rodger Picquery to stop making so much noise so I could hear myself think... so I wouldn't lose my train of thought... but instead I turned around as ordered and stared at my exam.

She loomed over my shoulder for an annoying amount of time, but eventually waddled off. When she did, I tucked my copper hair behind my ears, closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and tried, really _tried_ , to focus on the exam before me. But when I reopened my eyes and read at the words printed upon my own parchment, their meaning floated away like smoke in the air before I could make sense of them.

_Scritch-scratch._

I read them again.

_Squeak, squeak._

And again.

_Rustle, Rustle._

But it was no use.

They were just words. A string of random words shoved together into a sentence without any meaning or significance because my brain had decided it was infinitely more important to focus on the scritch-scratching, rustling, foot tapping cacophony that sounded me.

I wish I could say this was a special circumstance, but this was pretty typical.

"Thirty minutes left," round Professor Tibbs announced as she continued to waddle around the hall importantly with her hands behind her back, further distracting my already rebellious brain with the obnoxiously glittering ring on her finger.... was it new? Was she engaged? How was it that a toad like her could get a man and I couldn't?

All around me, other students were checking over their already finished exams...

I shoved away a particularly nausea-inducing train of thought that asked, 'what would I do if I didn't finish the exam?' and 'how was everyone else able to power through when I couldn't?' then I put my fingers in my ears.

The fingers in my ears tactic helped, but sadly it was too little too late.

The damage was done.

Just as I was gaining some momentum answering a question over the Troll Wars, my exam flew from my desk mid-sentence, leaving a long sad ink stripe down the empty half of the page, and joined its fellow parchments in a neat little stack at the front of the hall.

Only half finished.

Which meant that even if I got every question right, I'd still fail.

 _Great_.

This was the one final exam I was sure I'd pass, (after all, who doesn't love History?) but now it seemed that, like the rest of my classes, it would only further solidify the fact that I was, in fact, an idiot.

Soon after, we were all released from the drafty room and I followed the flock of students out the double doors and into the big hallway, colorful from the stain glass windows that lined the walls.

I walked with the hoard of students (carefully avoiding one apprehensive Rodger Picquery) back toward the Pukwudgie dormitory, moping over another failed exam, thinking about how stupid it was that they made us take tests all squished together like that, when my brooding was interrupted, as it usually was, by a lanky arm being thrown over my shoulders.

"Paisley! Can you smell that?!" he asked with far too much enthusiasm, sniffing the air with his crooked nose. I didn't have to look up to know that Matt was grinning, you could just hear it in his voice. Also, he was _always_ grinning.

"The stench of failure?" I replied flatly.

"It's pronounced _Freeedommm_!" he said importantly, squeezing my shoulders so I nearly tripped mid-step.

I grumbled the usual amount and pushed him away, sparing a small scowl up at him—which is far more difficult than it sounds because he's so much taller than me. I really had to crane my neck to do it properly.

But he just ran a hand through his floppy dirty-blonde hair, flashing his signature snaggletoothed crooked grin.

I'm pretty sure I could kick that boy in the shins and he'd still be grinning.

One time, during our second year, Matt got bitten by a baby mandrake during Herbology, and you know what he did? He laughed so hard it made the baby mandrake giggle.

"So what was up with you and Picquery?" he asked, more subdued.

I explained what happened as well as I could as we took a short cut we'd found our third year (one of my favorites because there was nothing but paintings of dolphins hanging on the walls and there were hardly ever people around).

When I was finished, he smiled sadly, because even when Matt's worried he smiles. "Pais, I wish you'd talk to a doctor—"

"You mean healer."

He waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah—Same thing—point is, I think it'd help."

I sighed. This was the same old conversation.

"There's no point, Matty. They'll just say I'm lazy or undisciplined or— or crazy or whatever..." I muttered. Part of me was afraid they were right.

It had always been like this. Lazy Paisley never finishing her tests. Crazy Paisley getting mad at people like poor Rodger for weird things. Spacey Paisley, incapable of following the simplest of lectures and conversations...

Needless to say, everyone at school thought I was weird and honestly I couldn't blame them. Thankfully, Matty found my weirdness endearing.

As we turned the corner and walked up to a tiny staircase that led to an opening hidden by a musty old tapestry, I could tell he was gearing up a rebuttal. But before he had a chance to speak I pulled the tapestry back and gestured gallantly for him to walk through to the bustling hall of other students.

Matt, distracted for the time being, grinned wide and stepped through like a king walking out to greet his fair subjects which made me laugh. No one noticed us. No one ever did. But it was fun all the same.

"So... what do you say to some ice cream and comic books tonight?" he asked, nudging my arm with his boney elbow. It sort of hurt, but I still smiled, grateful that he had dropped our previous subject.

"Only if it's Superman," I qualified.

He acted all offended, but he was, again, grinning so it wasn't very convincing. "But the flash—"

"Superman"

"But—"

"Superman."

He sighed, running a hand through his floppy hair again. "You drive a hard bargain, Higgs..."

"That's because I don't bargain... "

He rolled his eyes and laughed in defeat. "Fine. Fine, you win. Superman it is."

I smiled up at him, elbowing his side. "We can read the Flash tomorrow."

This made him considerably happier.

That evening, and every subsequent evening until our last day of school, was spent in much the same way: Matt and I would sneak into the kitchens, steal some ice cream (which was passable, but not nearly as good as the stuff back home), sneak back up to the Pukwudgie dormitories, then take turns theatrically reading stories from Matt's library worthy collection of Comic books until we were fat, slap happy, and annoying all of his roommates.

That's when I'd finally leave.

That's when I'd go moping up to the girls' dorm, to my tiny little twin bed, crammed up too closely to about a dozen other girls' tiny twin beds, close the cranberry bed hangings, and cry myself to sleep because I knew it would never be like this ever again.

Because, what Matt didn't know, what I didn't have the heart to tell him, my best and only friend, was that a week after I got home, before our final exam scores would even come in the mail, my family would be moving 4,000ish miles from America to England.


	2. Motorcycle Dude

"Sweetheart... there's a letter for you," Mom said, knocking on the door and walking into my new bedroom one Sunday afternoon. "It's from Matt..."

Of course it was from Matt. Who else would it be from?

"Okay," I said, not looking up from the book I was pretending to read, still wearing the cotton dress I'd worn to church that morning.

She stood there for a while, half in the door, half out, maybe hoping that I'd get uncomfortable enough with the silence to say something. But I didn't.

The sound of an obnoxiously loud motorbike zooming past our house floated up from the open window. Now normally, Mom would have made a comment about how dangerous those death-machines things are, but today she ignored it, walked in, and calmly added the letter to a stack of other unopened letters that had accumulated on my dresser over the past week. I could feel her frowning.

"You know," she began in that forced hopeful tone of hers. "We could see about getting a portkey to bring him here... the guest room's just about ready and there's plenty of time for him visit a bit before school starts... if you wanted..."

I shook my head, still looking at the same page I'd been not reading, wishing she'd just go away.

She sat on the bed. "You sure?"

"I'm sure."

Her frown got frownier. "Sweetheart... I don't mean to pry but... Did you... did you two break up?"

At long last, I looked up, horrified. "Ugh! _Mom_! For the last time, Matt's not my boyfriend!"

She was clearly unconvinced. "I just hate seeing you so sad..."

_Well then you shouldn't have made me move across the freaking ocean_ , I thought.

"I'm not sad," I said.

Her hand rested itself on my blanket covered kneecap in a way that was supposed to be reassuring. "You know your father and I broke up for a while after he graduated—"

"Oh my gosh. _Mom._ We didn't break up because we're not dating!"

"Then why won't you open his letters?"

"Because I don't _want_ to!" I exclaimed in a very bratty way, forcefully closing the book without marking the page and walking out of the bedroom.

She followed after me.

"Paisley, I'm just trying to understand!"

Trying to understand? I didn't know why it was such a difficult concept. I didn't want read the letters. I didn't want to see him. Because if I did, it would make me miss him even more. It would make going to a new school even more unbearable.

Besides, I already knew what the letters would say:

_'Scotland is beautiful, Pais! You're going to love the furry cows!'_

_'You'll be fine at the new school, just hang around some extroverts until one of them adopts you like I did!'_

_'If anyone messes with you, tell them I'll kick their butts with my yellow belt karate skills!'_

I huffed all the way down the stairs and to the entry way, grabbed my sweater from the hook and reached for the door handle. I wanted to scream at her to leave me alone, but instead I said, "I'm going for a walk."

* * *

The walk wasn't spectacularly interesting.

Dad's new job was in London for the British ministry of magic, helping them with some top-secret, super important thing or another, but our house was in a tiny (boring) village in the West Country of England. And when I say tiny and boring, I mean it. The whole thing centers on a little village square with only a church, a post office, a pub, and a few retail shops, one of which was an itty-bitty, locally owned grocery store that had a truly tragic ice cream selection.

But Matt would have thought it was great.

Matt could make anything fun by sheer force of smile.

I sat down moodily on a little bench under a big tree near the post office, pulling my jacket over myself protectively and swallowing the lump in my throat. Matt would have really liked that tree. It was perfect for climbing and had one borderline obese squirrel trying to keep its balance while it ate an acorn.

Being highly enamored with the eating habits of the chubby squirrel, I nearly jumped out my skin when that really loud obnoxious Motorcycle from before zoomed up behind me. Only, unlike before, the deafening roar of the motor lingered.

Apparently, whoever it was parked on the street directly behind my peaceful brooding bench.

The cubby squirrel tripped and dropped its acorn trying to run away.

Annoyed, I whipped my head around to scowl at the driver just as the motor shut off, mostly because I was in a bad mood and wanted to scowl at someone, but also because they ruined Mr. Squirrel's second breakfast which is just rude.

The driver, whom I fully expected to be some large grizzly biker gang man, was in fact, a boy. A teenage boy, probably about my age, wearing jeans and an aggressively scarlet sweater, taking off a retro-style helmet as his tall, lanky friend laughed obnoxiously, struggling to get out of a goofy looking sidecar.

They didn't even notice me.

"I can't drive with this stupid helmet!" the driver said abrasively with an English accent. Of course, the accent isn't really worth mentioning since everyone in that village besides our family had an English accent, but it still caught me off guard.

His friend was laughing so hard his glasses nearly fell off his face. "Yeah, sure— blame it on the helmet!"

The driver shoved his friend in that semi-aggressive, but good humored way boys do sometimes. "Come on..."

They then, to my great horror, started to walk the path towards me. I made brief eye contact with the friend wearing glasses noticing that he was rather good looking in a 'too cool to brush his hair' sort of way.

And then he winked.

And I panicked.

My face heated up and I instantly looked away, seriously wondering if I could climb that tree without Matt there to give me a leg up.

Ultimately, I decided I couldn't hide in the tree even if I wanted to and therefore stood up and walked pointedly towards the little grocery store just to look like I had something meaningful to do besides staring at strangers.

The door jingled as I walked in and the elderly cashier man smiled benignly at me by way of greeting. I made a bee-line to the ice cream in the back corner of the store. My safe place.

There was only one glass paneled freezer in the back, and the ice cream shelf was located below a row of frozen dinners and above the frozen vegetables, which should clue you in on how very pathetic their assortment was. All they had was some weird brand of chocolate and vanilla and a few boxes of 'ice lollies' which were actually just popsicles, not ice cream at all.

I stared at the sad shelf for some minutes, hoping that if I stared long enough some Blue Bell Cookies and Cream would magically appear. But it seems there are some things that not even magic can change.

The front door of the shop jingled again, soon followed by voices.

"...alright, we need tomatoes, pasta, milk—"

"Ice cream."

"—we have ice cream!"

"Not enough!"

I smiled to myself for the first time in ages. You could never have enough ice cream.

"We have plenty!"

"What if they want desert? Huh—?"

"Mum's baking pie."

"—What kind of hosts, nay, what kind of _monsters_ would we be to deprive them of the frozen goodness that is a good bowl of ice cream?"

"Ugh, fine! Fine, you grab some more ice cream and I'll look for the pasta, deal?"

A fleeting thought flashed before me, that perhaps fellow ice-cream lover person and I could join forces and petition the shop into stocking a more suitable variety of the frozen goodness. But then I remembered that I'd be packing up and leaving for school in Scotland at the end of the summer and it that it didn't really matter in the grand scheme of things.

I sighed and looked down at my scuffed up penny-loafers upon the linoleum floor, then lumbered back towards the door, empty handed— that's when walked right into someone.

Not just someone.

Motorcycle dude.

He was too busy staring at the ice cream to notice me, and I was too busy being angsty and depressed to notice him and we collided, rather painfully I might add.

I rammed right into his chest, nearly fell over and he cursed, muttering, "Fuck Merlin," under his breath and catching me by the shoulders. 

I mumbled an, "I'm sorry," that was probably too quiet for him to hear and tried to shuffle away, but his hands didn't move from my shoulders.

"Sorry, I didn't see you there— You alright?" he asked in that fancy English accent of his.

In yet another a moment of mortifying stupidity, I looked up at him. As fate would have it, motorcycle dude was cute too. Really, really cute. Devastatingly cute. The kind of cute that makes your heart hurt a little bit because you know they're too cute to even notice you. Ugh. He had dark hair that was sort of curly and sort of long, and fell into his eyes which were a super light blue. Eyes that were looking at me with an odd, unplaceable emotion, maybe concern—which would make sense, considering I just ran into him. His skin was flawless, sun-kissed from summer with a slight bit of stubble that seemed to accentuate his annoyingly good jawline. He even _smelled_ good. Like boy and sandalwood. _Ugh_.

I blinked. Then I blushed. Because that's the only possible reaction to being in such close contact with a boy as cute as that.

Seconds passed by. He was still looking down at me expectantly, because normally when people ask questions, the other person does more than stare at their face for extended periods of time.

"Padfoot! Hurry up and pick something!" his friend called out, body obscured by a shelf of dry goods. Motorcycle dude looked away, almost on reflex, hands relaxing their grip and I took this opportunity to run.

Literally.

I sprinted out of his hold and out of the store faster than the time Matt and I accidentally pissed off a Mama Chimaera in our Care of Magical Creatures class. I was vaguely aware that motorcycle dude was calling out something, but I ignored him and literally ran all the way through the village back to our cottage, swung the door open, slammed it shut, then panted, sliding down onto the floor with my back against the door.

"Looks like you had some walk!" Dad chuckled from the living room, with his deep southern accent.

I half smiled, half grimaced.

"Oh, good! You're back!" Mom said, relived to see me sprawled out on the entry way floor. She was holding a laundry basket full of folded towels and had her thick copper colored hair (same as mine) up in a flouncy ponytail. "One of the ladies from the neighborhood invited us to have dinner with her family this evening, isn't that nice?" she said happily. "They're just down the street, and we're walking over at five—I cleaned that green dress of yours, and put it on your bed in case you wanted to change."

I closed my eyes and marveled at my great misfortune.

The very last thing I wanted to do was go to some random lady's house and pretend I was happy.

"Thanks... but I'm not really feeling that good..." I said. It wasn't a total lie. All the spiriting and social awkwardness made me a little nauseous.

Mom readjusted the laundry basket in her arms, looking entirely unconvinced of my excuse. "Oh, come on, Paisley! It'll be good for you to go and socialize!"

I wanted to tell her that I'd just butchered my latest socialization attempt, but then I would have had to tell the story and then they would have made a big deal out of it. Not worth it.

"Fine... fine, I'll go."


	3. What the Hell is a Pukwudgie?

For a brief time, as I scuttled in my broccoli green dress down the old cobbled village road, the drab and boring cottages that lined the street were painted golden, drenched the last rays of sunlight. Mom was ahead of me, holding a casserole dish—some Cajun concoction of hers (of course)—and my dad was walking along at her side, shamelessly admiring all the front yards we were passing, making comments here and there about how good their flowers and shrubs looked. ("Betty, just look at those begonias!")

I walked behind them awkwardly adjusting and readjusting my dress. It didn't fit right.

Or maybe it did and I just wasn't used to it.

Whatever.

The point is that the dress Mom made me wear was both a hideous shade of green and uncomfortable. Oh, _and_ I had somehow forgot my sweater—needless to say I was too preoccupied to really breathe in the bland splendor that was Godric's Hollow.

It was a surprisingly short walk to this illusive neighbor which we were meeting, for which I was thankful.

We had only gone down the south side of the street and around the corner. The stone house was comfortably sized—two story with a small gate. It had green shutters (which Mom loved), a few muggle garden gnomes peaking out behind some well manicured shrubs (which Dad loved), and a large sprawling tree whose limbs stretched out towards the second story window (which _I_ loved).

I loathed the house on principle because it meant I'd have to talk to strangers (not my thing—see grocery store incident) but even I had to admit it actually looked rather cozy, all things considered.

Actually, reminded me a lot of the house our old elderly neighbor, Mrs. Hernandez, lived in. She had a glass eye, donkeys named after the three stooges, and always brought us tomatoes and cantaloupes from her garden.

_Can you grow cantaloupes in England?_

I pondered this fact as we walked through the gate and hustled up to the door.

It was a squeeze for all three of us (plus Moms cajun casserole) to clamber up to the front porch, but we Higgs are a tenacious breed, so we made it work.

I shuffled to the side and looked up. A little wooden sign hung above the door with the words "Potter Cottage", painted on in black cursive letters.

I saw mom eyeing the sign as well, with the familiar glint that oft preceded extended crafting sessions...

"Why don't you do us the honors, Paisy?" Dad said, pointing to the doorbell with a silly grin.

For a big scary auror, Dad could be such a goof. I shook my head and tried not to smile as I pressed the bell.

A pleasant, muffled chiming from inside was immediately followed by frantic footsteps and a woman's voice.

The door swung open, whooshing a warm gust of air at us that smelled of freshly baked bread and spices. An older woman stood in the door way, gray hair up in a French twist, smiling kindly at us. "Welcome! Welcome! Come on in! Please!" she said graciously. "Here, let me take your coats!"

My mother was the first to shuffle in. "Thank you for having us, Euphemia," she said in her gorgeous southern drawl, smiling genteelly. She always sounded like a southern belle—aka nothing like me. "This is my husband, Sam, and this," she said gesturing to me with the hand that was not holding a casserole dish. "Is our youngest daughter, Paisley."

Euphemia smiled warmly, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "What a lovely name. It's very nice to meet you," she said looking between me and dad. "Both of you."

A rather loud thunk from upstairs broke her smile momentarily.

She looked around, seeing a tad flustered. "Fleamont, my husband, is grilling in the back garden and the boys are still upstairs, but you can just take a seat wherever you like! Make yourselves at home!"

Dad quickly offered to help Mr. Potter. He got restless and much perfected doing something productive than 'making himself at home'.

Mom, went to help Euphemia in the kitchen and was hopefully warning her that the Cajun chicken dish she made was super spicy.

However I, in typical Paisley fashion, lagged behind standing awkwardly out of the way in the kitchen admiring a ceramic owl cookie jar that was placed on the counter.

I guess I thought I'd find something useful to do if I lingered around the kitchen (which in hindsight was ridiculous because I'm a walking fire hazard), but thankfully Mom and Euphemia sort of ignored me, chattering away like they'd been friends for ages.

"Have you seen much of London yet?" Mrs. Potter asked, filling some water goblets with a graceful flick of her wand.

Mom tossed her hair behind her shoulder and sighed. "No, not yet... Sam is always up at the ministry and Paisley—" She lowered her voice to a whisper out of politeness, but I could still hear every word she said. "She's having trouble adjusting to the move... Hardly leaves the house if it's not for ice cream or to avoid me..."

I traced my fingers over the ceramic owl cookie jar's chipped beak. She wasn't wrong.

"I don't know what to do with her— She won't talk to me— "

"It's just the age, dear," Euphemia said kindly.

"But we never had these issues with her sister—"

Of course she didn't have these issues with Clementine. Clemy didn't _have_ any issues. She was perfect, wonderful, sweet, successful, talented, athletic, punctual, smart, popular, beautiful— everything I wasn't.

Which was why I was constantly being compared to her.

But that's a story for another time.

Back to the owl cookie jar.

After hearing Mom mention good old Clementine, I was no longer in the mood to hang around in the kitchen. I gave the cookie jar owl a farewell tap on the beak, took exactly two and a half steps towards the back door where Dad was, then stopped dead in my tracks—

I honestly thought that we were in the midst of an earthquake.

Do they have earthquakes in England?

The cookie jar wobbled, and the painting of a chubby bespectacled child in fancy dress robes shook on the wall as thundering footsteps came trampling down the staircase behind me.

"Mmm... smells great, Mrs.P!" boomed a voice.

A boy's voice.

A familiar boy's voice.

I froze.

I mean, I was already frozen because of the whole earthquake scare, but my frozen state became even more frozier.

"Blimey... grocery girl, is that you?"

_No, no, no, no._

_No._

_Nope._

_Nope nope nope._

This could _not_ be happening.

I prayed this was all some sick dream.

My cheeks were burning.

Maybe if I stayed _really_ still they would forget I was here? Maybe if it was a dream and I knew I was dreaming I would wake up?

"Grocery store girl?" said another voice in an only slightly hushed, but completely amused toned. "You mean the weird bird you tackled?"

"I didn't tackle her!"

Not a dream.

Unfortunately.

I noticed that motorcycle dude (for it was motorcycle dude that was speaking) said nothing to the fact that his friend had just called me 'weird' and a 'bird'.

It was utter annoyance at his rudeness that finally made me turn to face him.

I gave that annoyingly handsome boy my best stink eye and 'who you calling a weird bird?' look. Judging by his aloof scowl, Motorcycle guy didn't appreciate this. Though, that could have just been his normal face.

"Oh, don't be so rude, Sirius!" Euphemia scolded. "This is Paisley Higgs, our new neighbor I told you two about! Paisley, this is Sirius Black, my son James's best mate—James, put that down and introduce yourself!"

Winking guy that called me a weird bird was the old lady's son? Grandson would have made more sense... but who am I to judge?

James, her son, with the messy hair and glasses whose baby pictures were pasted up like wallpaper around their house, put down a napkin ring he'd been idly tossing in the air and strutted towards me.

Literally _strutted_.

Oh, what fresh hell had I landed myself in?

"James Potter," he said, reaching out to shake my hand. Then he winked. Again. Could have been a nervous twitch, but I seriously doubted it.

I had the overwhelming urge step to on his foot, but managed to keep my feet firmly planted on the ground. A win, if you ask me.

His friend elbowed him in the ribs and said something under his breath before turning to me with a forced smile and reaching to shake my hand as well. "Sirius Black, very nice to meet you... officially."

Still no apology for the 'weird bird' comment, I noticed.

"Um... right..." I mumbled staring at his hand. Not shaking it like a normal person. It's strange how you can be so very aware of your own awkwardness, yet have no idea in the moment how to make things less awkward. "uh... I'm P-paisley... but I guess she just said that... um..." I looked around nervously, eyes landing on the chubby baby picture as I said, "Mom, do you need any help?"

"No, no, dear! We've got it handled!" Mom said as she gracefully tossed a salad. How do you even toss a salad gracefully?

I slowly turned back to the boys.

James gave Sirius a look, as if silently communicating that he thought I was a total weirdo once again. Sirius shrugged and ran a hand through his hair then followed James towards the table. They began to lay out plates, glasses, and silverware at each of the knitted placemats. Ignoring me.

I watched them set the table, crossing and uncrossing my cold arms over my chest, wishing I had a sweater.

I was so very aware of everything about myself. I could feel every awkward finger and movement so acutely. Even though I knew no one was watching me, and I _knew_ those boys and Mrs. Potter could care less what I did, I was still so conscious of their presence. Like a bug squirming under a microscope, unsure if the scientist looming above was watching or snacking on Pringle's.

I wished my dad would come back in already.

He could diffuse awkwardness like nobody's business.

Also, he was scary looking.

Those boys wouldn't dare call me weird in front of him, even if it was true.

"So... you went to Ilvermorny, right?" said James casually.

I stared at him for several seconds confused on why he was chatting with me.

Did he feel the _need_ to chat with me? Was he genuinely interested in talking to me or was it more out of politeness? Or worse, pity? My guess was politeness when I saw Mrs. Potter mouthing something unintelligible out of the corner of my eye.

James put down three knives and then I nodded as a reply. But then I realized he wasn't actually looking at me which mean I needed to _actually_ say something if he was going to know I replied. "Oh—Uh-Huh..."

"What was it like?"

I furrowed my brows. "Um... I mean... it was school..."

"Well yeah, _obviously_ ," Sirius said, rolling his eyes. "But what was it like? I mean you had to have had friends—What'd you do for fun?"

I blinked a few times, trying to rack my brain for an answer. Fun? I knew I had to have done fun things in the five years I spent there, but at that particular moment my mind came up blank. "Oh... uh... well... you see... I uh..."

"Pais, why don't you tell them about Matt?" Mom said from the kitchen.

Nothing better than having your mother help you converse with your peers.

"Who's Matt?" James asked, looking much too entertained. "Your boyfriend?"

"No!" I said a tad aggressively.

Both James and Sirius raised their eyebrows.

"Sorry... he-he's my friend. My best friend." _My only friend._

The two resumed their work at setting the table.

"Well... what did you and _Matt_ do for fun?" Sirius asked.

I took a deep breath and looked down at my penny loafers. "Well... um... well we'd read comics sometimes... but mostly we just kind of walk around the school a lot... it was kind of like exploring... The school's massive and there's all these random hallways and hidden rooms... places no ones been to in years... and we just—I dunno, it sounds sort of stupid when I say it out loud..."

"That doesn't sound stupid at all," James said.

I looked up, unsure of if he was mocking me or not. However, to my surprise, he and Sirius looked genuinely interested. Weird.

"That's what we do with our mates," Sirius said quietly, presumably so that the adults in the kitchen couldn't hear. "Muck about finding hidden passages and stuff."

"Hogwarts is full of shit like that," James said with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"O-oh... erm... cool..." I said stupidly. It really did sound cool. They sounded cool. Way too cool to be talking to me. Now, Clemy on the other hand...

I fiddled with my fingers for a moment trying to think up something else to say... or an excuse to leave. Whatever came first.

"Erm... do y'all have houses?" I blurted out.

They both just stared at me, then Sirius gestured to the room as if I was a genuine idiot.

Good grief.

I cleared my throat. "I meant at Hogwarts... Ilvermorny had houses that we were all sorted into..."

"Oh!" James exclaimed boisterously, making his mother look at him with a stern expression. "Course' we've got houses!"

"We're both Gryffindors," Sirius added, as if this was something to be proud of.

"What house were you in at Illvermorny?" James asked.

"Oh... um... Matt and I were both Pukwudgies—"

Sirius laughed loudly. "What the _hell_ is a Pukwudgie?"

"Watch your language, young man!" Mrs. Potter called.

I smiled slightly seeing him flustered from her admonishment.

James swooped in, throwing an arm over Sirius's shoulders. "What my good man means, is what were your houses traits?"

I bit my lip, puzzled. "Traits?"

"What are they known for?" James explained, waving his hand in a very posh way. He would not have looked out of place at all with a pocket watch and a pipe.

I was still having a hard time figuring out how to answer his question. What _were_ we known for?

"Yeah, were you in the smart house, the evil house, the brave, or the... the... whatever was left over house?" Sirius said.

Thunderbirds were adventurers... Wampus were warriors... So I supposed they were both brave... Horned Serpents were the smart ones... we didn't have any evil houses per say, with the exception of one Beatrice Boot in Wampus—I accidentally charmed off my hair my first year (severing spell gone wrong) and she started a rumor that I cut my hair because I wanted to be a boy. My popularity never fully recovered.

But, back to the point, I knew Pukwudgies famously favored healers... so maybe we were known for being nice? Nice sounds good.

"Erm... we were nice?" I said, my words coming out as a question.

The boys both looked at each other, as if sharing a private joke.

"Hufflepuff. Total Hufflepuff. I'm calling it now," James said with a smile.

Sirius seemed noticeably less amused. "Can we eat already?"

"Yes we can!" Mrs. Potter said, swooping in with Mom's casserole dish in one hand and a wand gracefully whipping around in the other.

James pushed his glasses up his nose and gave a good sniff to a basket of rolls levitating towards the table when the back door swung open.

"Paisy! You've got to see the treehouse they've—oh, hello! You must be the boys!" Dad said, coming into the kitchen with a tray of grilled chicken and an older man nearly as tall as him close behind.

"Treehouse?" I asked to no one in particular.

James waved it off. "Oh, that—Sirius and I built it after first year—never go up there anymore."

I'd always wanted a treehouse, as Dad well knew. If I had one I'd probably live there. Maybe that's why they never built me one...

"Speak for yourself," Sirius scoffed.

James turned to Sirius, incredulous. "You still go up there?"

Sirius shrugged, casually and elegantly inspecting his water goblet. "Occasionally."

James made a little annoyed sound, but plopped his gangly self down at the table beside his friend.

* * *

Dinner wasn't quite as awful as I had anticipated. The food was amazing, the boys were too intimidated by Dad to be outright rude to me, and Mom babbled on enough that I didn't have to say much.

James seemed to really enjoy the sound of his own voice, I noticed. He went on and on about some weird boring game they played instead of Quodpot. It was very complicated and didn't have any explosions. Lame.

"Our Clemy was the star of the Quodpot team!" Dad chuckled. "You should have seen the way Paisley watched her fly—"

"Dad..." I said under my breath. I could tell as soon as they mentioned Clementine that this was headed toward an embarrassing story about me.

Dad continued to chortle and James leaned forward slightly, eyeing me curiously. Sirius looked much more interested in his cajun casserole, moving the onions and bell peppers around with his fork.

"She even stole a broom once when she was ten!" Dad said, thoroughly amused by his own anecdotes. "But— but she didn't know how to fly yet!"

Mom laughed and I wanted to fall into a hole and die. "She was zipping around willy nilly! Gave us such a fright when she got herself tangled in that tree! Thank goodness for Matt—"

"He lived in the neighborhood and was riding his bike when he saw her dangling, being pecked by a couple of angry bluejays she accidentally turned pink—" Dad continued.

He was downplaying the pink bluejay thing. They were _evil_. I still have scars from where they pecked at me.

Mom shook her head, smiling fondly. "He was so confused on how she got herself up there, with a broom no less, but bless his heart, he got her down and brought her all the way back home—"

"Good man, that Matt," Dad sighed. "Too bad you two broke up, Paisy, I thought you two were good together—"

Oh, now he'd done it.

" _Dad_! We never broke up—"

Dad smiled wide.

"Ugh! We never broke up because we were never dating!"

He frowned.

Sirius coughed into his water goblet.

Mrs. Potter clapped her hands together with a smile. "Who wants pie?!"

"I'll get it!" James said, leaping out of his chair.

Sirius nearly got out of his own chair. "Prongs, don't forget the—"

"I'm not going to forget it, Padfoot!" James tutted, swinging the freezer open. "Apple pie a la mode coming right up!"

Ice cream.

I couldn't even pretend to be sulky when I saw James take the ice-cream out of the freezer. It was vanilla and that same weird brand that they sold at the tiny grocery store down the street, but it was still ice cream.

"Paisley loves ice cream!" Mom laughed, ruffling my hair. "I remember when she was three she—"

I turned to scowl at her. We were _not_ about to listen to the time I ate a whole gallon of chocolate bluebell ice-cream the threw it up on Clemy's _Madame Alexander_ babydoll.

Mom got the hint and trailed off.

Mr. Potter spoke next. "Sirius loves ice cream as well— I wish you could have seen his face the first time he had it at our house that first summer after Hogwarts—"

Sirius, for all his cool boy vibes, blushed. Faintly. But it still counted.

But then I realized what Mr. Potter had just said.

"You didn't have ice cream until you were _eleven_?!" I exclaimed incredulously.

"Twelve, actually!" James piped in as he cut the pie.

I gawped at him. "What rock do you have to be living under to not have ice cream until you were _twelve_?! Were your parents hippies or something?"

"Paisley!" Mom chastised, clearly embarrassed by me.

I flushed as my own rudeness sunk in.

I could just imagine what Clementine would say if she were there. ( _"Paisley, you can't just ask people if their parents are hippies!")_

Thankfully, Sirius laughed. "Definitely _not_ hippies! I don't think they even know what hippies are!"

Who didn't know what a hippy was?

Sensing my confusion, Sirius continued. "They're Purebloods."

I furrowed my brows. "I'm pureblood and I know what ice cream and hippies are—"

"No, they're—" he paused, searching for the right way to word whatever it was he was trying to say.

"Desert is served!" James practically shouted, wand out and levitating all the pie plates in front of us. I was confused. Didn't they still have underage magic laws in Britain?

Sirius snorted at the incredulous look on my dad's face. "Mate, you do realize there's a ministry official at the table, right?"

James paled and the last plate, mine, fell to the table. Shattering on impact.

Apple pie and vanilla ice-cream mixed with broken china flew and covered the place I had been sitting, getting all over my broccoli green dress.

Judge me all you want, but I really wanted to cry. Not because the frumpy dress had been ruined, but because I was really looking forward to the ice cream...

"Merlin's balls! I'm so sorry!" James yelped.

"Language!" Mrs. Potter said on reflex. "Oh, poor dear, here let me—"

I sat, staring dejectedly at the empty spot in front of me as Mrs. Potter, with a few quick spells, cleaned the mess and repaired the plate.

Unfortunately, she also vanished all the food... and there wasn't anymore. The pie only had six pieces and the ice cream carton was far too small to have anymore than a spoonful left... if that...

That's when I saw a hand move across the table and place a plate of Apple pie a la mode in front of me.

Sirius.

I blinked. Sirius had just given me his own desert plate leaving him with nothing. "You— you don't— you didn't have to—"

"It's late and I have to go anyway," he said not meeting my eyes. "Thanks for having me Mr. and Mrs. Potter, it was lovely as always—"

"Oh, you know you're always welcome, Sirius!" Mrs. Potter said in a rather grandmotherly way. "You be safe getting home!"

"Taking the floo today, no worries," Sirius smirked, gracefully getting up from the table. " Nice to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Higgs— see you around Paisley."

I waved awkwardly, hand nearly knocking over my water.


	4. I Was Not Spying

I wish I could say that my life in Godric's Hollow got better after that fateful evening of apple pie and awkwardness. You have no idea how much I would like to tell you, dear reader, that those teenage boys and I became fast friends and were inseparable the rest of the summer. Or, perhaps, that charged with the excitement of a thrilling evening, I went home and wrote my best friend, relating the tale in detail, and by so mending the slow burning bridge that spanned an ocean. 

But that didn't happen. 

Actually, it felt for a while as if that weird dinner party didn't even happen. 

Sure, I saw James and Sirius out and about, riding on that stupid motorcycle death machine (of course) but we had an unspoken agreement to act as if we had never met... or so it would seem. 

I tried, in a very un-paisley moment, the day right after our dinner party, to wave at James when I saw him walking by himself as I walked to the grocery store. I thought, why not? At the very least we could be acquaintances. 

But he ignored me. 

Straight up ignored me. 

He stopped, looked at me, frowned deeply, then stomped off toward the post office. Why he had such a negative reaction to my just being friendly, or why he was using no-maj mail and not owl was beyond me. 

I won't lie. My pride was bruised. 

After all, hadn't he been the one winking things up before? 

Had I become repulsive over night?

However, I gave him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he was just having a bad day? I didn't see Sirius so maybe he was all off kilter being without having his other half around. 

The next time I saw James, Sirius was with him. It was that same week, a very rainy Wednesday. I remember it was a Wednesday because Mom dragged me to London on Tuesday to 'see the sights'. It was a rather boring trip, but I finally got some rain boots while I was there. 

They were yellow and made me look rather like a duck when I wore them with my yellow rain jacket, but I wasn't complaining. 

Anyways, I knew I was highly visible because of all the yellow, and I knew it was a rainy Wednesday because the boots were brand new and still a little squeaky and stiff and Mom had just put a water-resistance spell on my book.

So, there I was sitting on my park bench, as had become habit, _trying_ to read the least boring school book, A History of Magic, in an attempt to get sort of caught up on my summer assignments, when I heard them zoom up. 

Water splashed everywhere as the motorcycle rumbled to a stop along the road behind me. 

I turned, and without thinking, waved, even throwing in a smile— and ended up dropping my book into a nearby puddle in the process.

Maybe it was out of secondhand embarrassment that they ignored me, I don't know. But again, I gave them the benefit of the doubt. They seemed to be on a mission of sorts, this time working together to carry a rather large box to the No-Maj post office. 

Our third meeting is when I was sure that they didn't want to be my friend. 

It was exactly one week after our dinner party. I had just got out of an exceptionally long church service where the preacher did the whole, "you never know what someone else is going through" thing, and I was walking with Dad to the pub to grab some lunch for us to bring back home when, who would have guess, James and Sirius came walking up the opposite direction towards us. 

Without thinking, I raised my hand, opened my mouth to say, "hello!" but as soon as James made eye contact with me, he scowled and ducked into, you guessed it, the post office, yanking a stumbling Sirius in behind him. 

My hand fell down at my side in defeat. Words dying in my throat.

I was done. 

I was done trying to be their friend. 

If they wanted to ignore me, then so be it. 

Of course, dad didn't even notice the whole thing, blinded by the prospect of fish n' chips.

* * *

That evening I sat on our roof under the lilac and pink sky, watching the cotton candy clouds lazily drift in the breeze and the first few stars twinkle and wink at the setting sun. 

I liked sitting on the roof from time to time. It was the closest _I_ would ever get to an adventure and it had the added benefit of making it more difficult for Mom to nag me. Another completely coincidental benefit (or curse, depending upon how you look at it) of my particular rooftop perch, was that I had an excellent view of the Potter's house. 

Now, before I tell you what happened next, I would like to preface by saying I was _not_ spying on them— not intentionally, at least. 

But, like I said, I had an excellent view. 

So, there I am, relaxing on my roof with a cup of coco in a mug shaped like a jackalope, as one does, when I see the oddest thing. Well, maybe not the _oddest_ , but it was certainly unexpected.

Two girls, about my age, were standing at the door much like I had done with my parents a week prior. One had auburn hair the other blonde. And it was hard to tell for certain, given the distance, but they were both very pretty. I'm talking Clementine pretty. 

And just like the week prior, Mrs. Potter came bustling up to the door, looking pleasantly frazzled beckoning them in. 

I don't know why I cared so much. 

It's not like I even knew those boys. 

It's not like I even enjoyed being around them.

But some horrible, ugly, petty part of me was jealous that the pretty girls got invited and I didn't. Something about the whole situation made me feel alone and defective and about a thousand other really depressing things that I won't bore you by listing. 

And the worst part was, I knew I was being ridiculous and dramatic and I still couldn't pull myself out of it. 

So I moped on the roof for a while, sipping my now cold hot chocolate, wallowing in my pitiful privileged life— until something curious caught my attention. 

The girls had just left, being picked up and driven away in a very sensible station wagon, probably by one of their parents, when Sirius came running outside, arms flailing, screaming profanities that made me blush as James chased after him. 

This boy was _angry_. 

He was half a block away and I could feel the anger radiating off of him.

In hindsight, it may have been magic I felt, because a second later a street lamp spontaneously combusted. 

"I CAN'T BELIEVE THEM!" Sirius shouted. "IN THE MIDDLE OF FUCKING DINNER?!"

"Mate, come on— You know no one really believes any of the stuff they—"

"IT'S THE PRINCIPLE OF THE MATTER, JAMES!" Sirius spat just before raking his hands through his hair. "And you know Marlene's going to tell— tell _everyone_ with that big mouth of hers—!"

"Marly won't tell anyone— Lily won't let her— _I_ won't let her—"

"But how am I supposed to go back?!" Sirius said, voice breaking. "You heard what they said! How fucking pathetic am I going to look to go back to _that_!" 

"You're not pathetic, Pads—"

Sirius let out an anguished yell, kicking the blown up lamp post, then hitting his head against the metal. 

"Sirius, you know you— you know you don't have to go back, right? You can stay here— we've already got a room and Mum would—"

The wind picked up, making the leaves flutter, and I couldn't make out what he said. 

James moved closer to Sirius. "Sure you can, you just—"

Again, Sirius was mumbling too much for me to hear what he said. 

James tried to protest once more and then Sirius snapped, rounding on his heel to face him, making James stumble back a few steps. "I told you, I won't leave him! I can't!"

It was like I was watching a real life soap opera. 

I had no idea what the heck was going on... There was more drama and emotion in one sentence of his than I'd ever experienced in my whole life. And something about the whole exchange left me feeling naive, intrusive, and most of all stupid. 

I felt even stupider when Sirius finally spotted me, making eye contact. 

"Bloody hell!" he cried out, as if speaking to God himself. "Really?!"

I jumped in terror and embarrassment, face positively burning all the way from my neck to the roots of my hair— my jackalope mug went tumbling down to the ground, shattering on impact, and I very nearly fell off the roof with it. 

You'd think things couldn't get any worse, right?

Wrong. 

It was at this moment, terrified and shaking from my near death experience and mortifying embarrassment— as Sirius still shouted off expletives to the powers that be— that an owl, out of no where, dropped a red envelope in my lap and promptly flapped away, knowing what would come next. 

I held the envelope in trembling hands.

I closed my eyes and prayed, nay _begged,_ that God would smite me into dust right then and there.

No such luck. 

"PAISLEY HIGGS YOU ARE THE WORST BEST FRIEND IN THE HISTORY OF BEST FRIENDS!" 


	5. Pity Party

"PAISLEY HIGGS, YOU ARE THE WORST BEST FRIEND IN THE HISTORY OF BEST FRIENDS! OKAY, MAYBE NOT THE _WORST_ —THAT'S A LITTLE HARSH—BUT I'M VERY DISAPPOINTMENT THAT YOU HAVEN'T WRITTEN TO ME AT _ALL_! WE ALL KNOW YOU'RE DOING NOTHING ANYWAYS—ITS NOT LIKE YOU HAVE ANY FRIENDS OVER THERE—"

Matt's deafening twang—now the only sound gracing the sleepy little neighborhood—echoed off the roof of the house making him sound about a hundred times louder. I cradled my face in my hands, praying it would all be over soon.

"—SHOOT A MONKEY—SORRY, PAIS, THAT CAME OUT WRONG— AND I'M SORRY THIS IS PROBABLY ALL YELLY AND AGGRESSIVE—DID YOU KNOW THESE THINGS ONLY HAVE ONE VOLUME?! I DIDN'T EVEN WANT TO USE A HOWLER, BUT YOU REALLY LEFT ME WITH OTHER CHOICE—I MEAN THREE WEEKS, PAIS?! UGH! WRITE ME BACK YOU LITTLE BRAT OR I SWEAR ON MY 1936 COLLECTORS EDITION SUPERMAN I'LL MAKE AN ILLEGAL PORTKEY AND SHOW UP AT YOUR FRONT DOOR NEXT TIME!!"

And with that oath, the envelope burst into flames.

Or so I assumed.

I still hadn't removed my hands from my face.

Frozen in place.

Rendered motionless by a double dose of mortification.

A beat passed.

Then another.

Sirius had ceased cursing out the Great Almighty long ago... which meant he and James probably heard everything.

_Lovely_.

They had to have guessed I was a socially inept weirdo before this point—hello grocery store incident—but now it had been confirmed by Matthew's bellowing Howler. What kind of person doesn't write their best friend back for three weeks anyway?

Ugh. Me. Crazy Paisley. That's who.

This is probably why pretty girls get invited places and I don't.

They're all gorgeous and un-awkward... punctual in answering their post... and then there's me. The lurking antisocial troll on the roof.

I didn't dare look toward Potter Cottage as I shimmied down the shingles to my bedroom window landing. I couldn't bare the thought of seeing their faces. I didn't even go down and pick up the pieces of my jackalope mug scattered on the lawn. I just slipped inside my little pink and orange bedroom, turned off the lights and crawled in bed, hoping it was all a nightmare.

* * *

At 2am I awoke to what I _swear_ was the sound of a dog barking its head off outside my window. But, when I ungracefully stumbled across my messy room and pulled back the fuchsia drapes, there was nothing but a flickering street lamp to grace the old village road.

I poked my head out a little further and frowned at the jackalope mug still in pieces upon the lawn. Ceramic antlers separated from its adorable long ears. I mentally made a note to fix it the next day. Or rather, ask mom to fix it. Probably couldn't manage the spell even if I was allowed to use magic.

With a sigh I went back into my room, leaving the window open a little this time to let in the breeze while I slept. Only... I didn't think I could go back to sleep just yet.

While most of me was groggy and longed for a nice dreamless slumber where I could completely forget all my problems existed for a few hours, my conscience was fully awake and currently bouncing around with me like kangaroo rat.

Which was how I found myself at my desk next to the stack of unopened letters from Matty.

**"Paisley!**

**If you're reading this it means your in EUROPE! Do you know how stinking cool that is?! I know you're probably being all sulky about it since you're away from your super awesome best friend (understandable) but I hope you realize how big of an opportunity this is and find the fun—"**

**"—mom grounded new for wearing those pink pants to church yesterday. But dad got me some new comic books soo that's cool."**

**"—you're probably not reading these but whatever—How are things going over there? I started getting the British news paper delivered here to keep up with current events since we know you live under a rock. Mom's not really happy about all the owls but whatever. Gotta say, it looks kinda scary... hope your dad's holding up alright."**

**"Paisley, good news! I think I've figured out how to send you ice cream!! Bad news... it would involve magic... and you responding to my letters..."**

**"If you could be any super villain which would you be?"**

**"Dads making me learn math this summer. Very useful. You'd hate it."**

**"Did you know they have furry cows in Scotland? I heard The Queen likes cows."**

* * *

"Paisley, time to get up!"

I groaned into the puddle of drool and blindly put my arm over my eyes to shield me from the sunlight assaulting my bedroom. I was highly uncomfortable, having fallen asleep reading Matty's letters at my desk, but not uncomfortable enough to get up right away.

My mother groaned as well, nudging me. "Paisley! Get up! I made breakfast!"

I peaked out from under my arm, wiping the drool away with my sleeve. "What _kind_ of breakfast?"

She smirked knowingly. "Breakfast burritos."

More magical words had never been uttered.

I was up and stumbling down to the kitchen table quicker than you could say 'Quodpot', and proceeded to devour a bacon, egg, cheese, and fried potato burrito in a highly unladylike fashion. In case you were unaware, breakfast burritos are the best thing to ever be invented.

"Slow down there, hun!" Dad chuckled.

I tried to say, "but it tastes so good," but it came out as "bu' i' fa fo oof!"

He chuckled some more and took a large bit of his own burrito, hot sauce dripping down to the flowered china.

Mom shook her head with a small exasperated smile as she made her own food at last.

After half a burrito I paused to give my poor stomach a break and got up to get myself some orange juice. I pulled the container out of the fridge and a glass out of the cupboard which took much longer than it should have. I had to search several different places—an unforeseen side effect of moving.

"You received some mail, Paisley," Mom said.

Mail?

I paused my pouring.

The horrible, nightmarish, events of the night before began to wash over me.

The howler.

Stalking.

Embarrassment.

Jackalope mug.

I nearly lost my appetite for burritos.... Nearly.

I finished pouring the glass and put the juice away, careful to avoid eye contact with my parents as I sat back down at the table.

"Mail?" I replied oh so casually.

Dad pulled a letter out from under his newspaper.

Yikes. This was it.

Matty hadn't heard from me and now he was enlisting the cavalry. I really should have expected a shady move like this. Crafty Matty strikes again.

But the worst part was, I was _actually_ planning to write him back that afternoon. I mean, it was going to be something embarrassingly short and along the lines of "Sorry I suck," but something was better than nothing... right?

I took a rather large bite of my burrito to avoid having to say anything else.

"It's from Ilvermorny," Dad said, frowning deeply.

Uh oh.

"Your final grades have come in."

Double uh oh.

"I have to say I expected more out of you, Paisley," he said, shaking his weary head as he handed the letter to my unwilling hands.

Sirens were going off in my mind, heart beat quickening.

I swallowed hard and looked at the parchment.

And y'all, it was BAD.

My throat was tight, fingers all numb and tingly, heart pounding a mile a minute, and blood rushed in my ears making it difficult to actually hear the speech my dad had begun about my atrocious grades. I knew I bombed my final exams...I knew the second the pitiful parchments left my desk. But to see the horrific grades all so neatly outlined on the schools letterhead was borderline _unbearable_.

** Defense Against the Dark Arts ** **: Troll**   
** Charms ** **: Dreadful**   
** Transfiguration ** **: Poor**   
** Herbology ** **: Poor**   
** Potions ** **: Dreadful**   
** History of Magic ** **: Acceptable**   
** Astronomy ** **: Troll**   
** Care of Magical Creatures ** **: Dreadful**   
** Divination ** **: Troll**

Once again, my status as the designated disappointment of the Higgs clan was made oh so very clear. So many Trolls... The only silver lining was that I'd actually passed History of Magic, my favorite class.

Go me.

"—you need to take this more seriously! You'll _never_ become a qualified witch if you don't start applying yourself! This is your _future_ that's on the line, Paisley! You know the only reason Clementine is where she is today is because she applied herself during school—"

_Oh boy._

Clemy.

I'd been triggered.

My last strand of sanity snapped like a overstretched rubber band at the mention of my ever so lovely big sister. Words, hot, angry, and acidic from years of pent up frustration and comparison, and fresh disappointment spilled out of my mouth and over my father's own heated words, assaulting the quaint breakfast nook.

"Well I'm sorry I'm not as _perfect_ as her! I'm sorry you ended up with such a dud of a daughter the second time around, I really am—"

Mom dropped her burrito dramatically. "Paisley! Don't say things like that!"

"It's true though! We all know it!" I said, crumpling the grade sheet and throwing it on to the table near a bowl of grits. "Clemy's perfect and smart and successful and—and I'm just—I'm just the _stupid_ sister! The big mistake!"

"Now, that's _enough_!" Dad said loudly, the scary Auror vibes coming on strong. I shrank in my seat. "Enough of your little pity party— enough _excuses_! You are going to _fix_ this grades situation before you go to Hogwarts, do you understand?"

Nope. Not at all.

Per usual.

"What do you expect me to do?! In case you didn't notice, it's summer! And I'm in a completely different _country_!" _All because of you and your stupid job..._

Dad reined in his emotions far better than I ever could and ran a hand through his brown hair, graying on the sides—having a dramatic teenage daughter was really aging him. "The British have a different system for examinations. Usually in a situation like yours—with transfers, that is—your fifth year final exam grades would count as your O.W.L.s—"

"—my _what_?"

"—but I've arranged for you to re-take the exams at the end of the summer—"

" _What_?!"

"—Well, you'd be taking the British version of your exams— but it's essentially the same—"

"And what if I _don't_?! What if I don't want to take a bunch of stupid tests again?!"

Dad frowned and looked to Mom...

My heart fell into my burrito filled stomach.

The 'what if' must have been pretty bad.

They always left it to her to break the bad news. Like when my dog, Boudreaux, died when I was eight (coyote attack), or when Matty and his parents got in that really bad car accident when we were twelve, or when I found out we'd be moving here...

Mom tucked her copper hair behind her ears then leaned towards me, taking my sweaty troll hands in hers. "Sweetheart, if you don't re-take the exams... if you don't _pass_ them... you'll... well..." —she took a breath— "they'll have to set you back a year..."

I blinked slowly.

Processing.

Set me back a year?

"I— I'd have to repeat my fifth year...?" I said as tears welled in my eyes. I don't even know if I was sad or angry. I just felt. Something. Something strong. Painful.

The kitchen was getting blurry but I knew mom was giving me a look of pity that made the pain even worse... "It's not ideal... obviously... but it would ultimately be in your best interest—"

Her words brought me back to life.

My best interest was to be held back like I was a genuine idiot.

"THIS IS SO _STUPID_!" I ripped my hands out of hers before she could finish her sentence, eyes stinging with tears, voice cracking. "If I flunked them all the first time, how the Sam Hill do you expect me to pass them this go around?!"

They obviously weren't all that delighted by my vicious tone, but they seemed entirely expectant that I would say something along those lines.

Dad's face was stern and lacking the warmth that i was accustomed to seeing when he was at home. "We've arranged for you to have a tutor."

My head whipped toward mom. "A tutor?"

I could see her hands inching towards mine and the apology in her eyes.

"Who?!"

I think part of me, a bigger part of me than I would admit to, hoped that she would say Matty.

Matty was smart.

Really smart.

And even though I'd been the worst best friend and ignoring him for three weeks... I missed him so much it physically hurt.

And I knew he hated being stuck with his parents, even though he'd never admit it. They just didn't _get_ him.

As much as I acted like I didn't want him there, I did.

But the name that came out of my mother's mouth was not Matty's.

Not even close.

Her blue eyes flicked to Dad then back to me. "James Potter."


	6. Felid Trip

Why do they make text books so darn heavy?

I mean, I get that they're just bursting with 'knowledge' or whatever, but you'd think wizards of all people could figure out a way to not make holding a stack of text books a feat of athleticism.

I struggled to elbow the doorbell and keep the teetering stack from toppling down to the Potter's porch. It was a lot harder than it sounds. I missed and ended up aggressively elbowing the side of their house several times before I finally managed it.

It had been exactly one day since my parents broke the news that I was a tragic disappointment (officially) and they were already kicking me out of the house to get started with tutoring sessions... despite my protests.

It's not that I didn't want a tutor. That part made sense. Obviously I needed any help I could muster if I was going to pass my stupid exams. The problem was that _James_ serving as my tutor meant that whole escapade was doomed towards failure seeped in awkwardness.

Let's just disregard for a moment the fact that James Potter had been charged with the impossible task of leading me towards academic success... We'll get back to it, I promise. The more pressing issue, as I stood upon his homey porch step, was the fact that he did not like me.

No, actually, judging by his cold demeanor following the dinner party, it would have been safe to assume that boy actively despised my presence.

Every time I crossed paths with him he could do little else than scowl and run away... and this was _before_ I accidentally stalked him and his best friend from my rooftop like a freaking weirdo.

And now I would be spending an entire day with him against my will?

_Lovely_.

As the charming house chimed within, I tried to steady my shaking breaths. At least my hands were full so I wouldn't have to deal with any sweaty palmed handshake situations.

At last there were footsteps... then a short pause. Part of me hoped that he wouldn't answer the door... which was a really stupid thing to even hope for.

The door flung open.

The cool air within wooshed towards me, making my copper hair fly in my face. Remember, my hands were full, so I had to sputter and blow the tangled copper mess it to get it out of my eyes... which only made me look even _more_ like a spaz.

James Potter was finally visible.

I'd forgotten how tall he was until this moment, watching him scratch the back of his neck and ruffled his untidy hair... half-grimacing. Great start. "You're early," he muttered, frowning down at his watch.

I wasn't. I was late actually. I would have been later if Mom hadn't literally forced me out of the door that morning.

I re-adjusted the large stack of books in my arms that was becoming heavier the longer I stood there. "Sorry?"

He didn't meet my eyes, looking around the front room in a rather distracted manner, hand rested upon the door frame, checking his watch twice in a span of several seconds.

"Come on," he said with a sigh, harking to follow him in. "You can just leave those on the table."

He pointed in a random direction to the left where _two_ end tables stood. Each with a little vase of fresh cut daisies laying upon some frilly antique doilies.

Which table did he mean?

And didn't we need the books to study?

"Um... which—"

"The big one."

I looked around again. Neither one looked particularly big...

Apparently I was taking too long because after a moment or two James huffed and grabbed the stack of books out of my hands then unceremoniously dropped them on the dining room table further ahead.

Was it really so difficult to say 'the dining room table'? I ran up behind to fix the teetering stack dangerously close to falling over. James didn't say anything. He did, however, check his watch again, taking a seat at the table.

I stood awkwardly for a moment, leaned against a high backed chair.

What was I supposed to do? Or say?

I'd never had a proper tutor before so I had no idea how this interaction was supposed to go down... but I was pretty sure it was counterintuitive to remain this silent.

Seconds ticked by on the old grandfather clock in the corner... I think it was a clock, at least. It was kind of far away, but it looked like it had too many clock arms and it was set to the wrong time. Odd. I was going to tell him that they should maybe get it fixed, when he finally nodded toward the chair.

I guessed this was a cue for me to have a seat.

I sat.

Shifting in my seat.

Crossing and uncrossing my legs making there chair squeak.

Pulling my sweater closer towards me and fiddling with the buttons.

Meanwhile, James sat in his own seat, frowning down at his stupid watch. Why was he so obsessed with the time today? Was he always obsessed with time? Was that a thing of his? Punctuality? If so... wouldn't he have gotten that stupid grandfather clock fixed sooner?

I was really annoyed by the clock.

I had to stop thinking about it.

Focus Paisley.

But focus on what? We were just sitting in his dining room in silence!

I realized I was kind of staring at him and looked away.

I licked my lips and tried look like I was highly interested in the decor of the room, which was difficult concerning how bland it was. Floral wallpaper was pasted on the walls behind the many ornately framed pictures of James's face at various stages of childhood and adolescence. They all seemed much happier than the real James.

I wondered for the first time if it was _me_ who made him so uncomfortable... or if perhaps there was something _else_... Some other thing or person that was taking his thoughts and attention captive. Was it Sirius? He wasn't there... so I supposed that might have had something to do with it... Or perhaps it was something or someone I'd never met.

His life beyond our time together was a mystery as far as I was concerned, but he seemed like the kind of guy who had a large social sphere... so the possibilities were truly endless.

"So, what subject do you need help with?" he asked, voice pulling me out of my thoughts.

I tucked my hair behind my ears and cleared my throat. "Um... well... a-all of them?"

" _All_ of them?!" he asked incredulously, hazel eyes wide and finally looking at me.

I looked away. "Well... n-not history... I'm good at history..."

He ran a hand through his hair. " _Shit_... well that's good at least—I'm rubbish at history."

I didn't know how to respond to that and thus we elapsed into an awkward silence once more.

James checked his watch again, then tapped his fingers on the table a few times. I tried to not notice that he was staring at me.

I nervously straightened the astronomy book at the top of the pile.

I could feel his eyes on my hands which only made them sweatier. "You like ice cream, right?"

That seemed like an odd question to ask at a tutoring session. "Uh... Y-yeah—yeah, I love ice cream... but what does that have to do with—"

James stood up from his seat abruptly. "We're going on a felid trip."

"A field trip?" _What the actual heck?_ "But we haven't even—"

"Come on, we can take the floo," he said, walking off, not even listening to me. I had a feeling that would be a reoccurring thing.

I scowled, but began gathering up my books. Maybe a change of scenery would be nice. There was no way I was going to be able to focus with so many of his pictures grinning at me from every angle anyways.

"No, no you can leave those here—" he said, waving at my book dismissively.

"But don't we need them to study or something?"

He paused, frustrated and thought this over for a moment, then finally said, "Yeah... yeah okay—grab the astronomy one."

I snagged the book and held it to my chest walking towards the fireplace.

* * *

James and I took the floo to a place called the 'Leaky Cauldron' which is just the sad, run down, sort of establishment you would expect it to be.

It was filled with odd sketchy folks and reeked of stale beer. Not that I would know what that smelt like at the time. I just knew it didn't smell particularly clean.

"James..." I said hesitantly, trying and failing to be brave. "I don't think this place has ice cream..." _Not any that I would ever eat anyways..._

James rolled his eyes then grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards the back. "Come on, Higgs."

This seemed like just the sort of thing that happened in either a romantic comedy or a horror movie. I hadn't decided what movie I was in just yet.... but I swear we passed by a hag in one of the booths, so I was leaning towards horror.

He lead us through the musty pub towards a back alley and pulled out his wand.

Oh no.

I was _not_ about to get in trouble because of him.

He seemed genuinely surprised when I snatched the wand out of his hands.

"Um... I sort of need that?"

" _No_! I'm not letting you do underage magic! I might be stupid, but I'm not a delinquent!"

I thought I was being all tough and intimidating.

But of course I couldn't even do that right.

James began laughing. "Oh, calm down, Higgs! I learned my lesson at dinner—don't you worry! Now, hand over the wand so I can—"

He lunged to grab the wand out of my hands but I ran backwards, bumping into a large barrel and nearly knocking it over. "No!" I said. "I-I don't trust you!"

He rolled his eyes and put his hand over his heart. "Higgs, I solemnly swear that I will not do underage magic—now can you please hand me my wand?" He reached out expectantly. "I need it to get into the alley."

I frowned and looked down at the wand in my hands—but before I had a chance to really decide if I trusted that oath of his, that little turd snatched it out of my hands.

"Hey!" I cried out, now trying to jump and grab it back, but James was significantly taller than I was and batted me away like it was nothing, tapping on the bricks, looking almost amused.

"You're a lot more aggressive than I would have pegged you for—aren't you plucky-wugies supposed to be nice?"

"It's _Puckwudgie—_ and I just don't like breaking the _law_!"

"I'm not breaking the law—but even if I _was_ , no one really cares about underage magic unless you're muggleborn," he said, tapping the last few bricks.

"Well _I_ care! And I'm not going to let you get us—"

"Ah! There we go!" he said happily, ignoring me entirely.

The bricks began to rearrange themselves into an archway, revealing a bustling cobbled street filled with people in cloaks and pointed hats, milling about very wizard-esque shops with colourful, glittering window displays of spellbooks and potion ingredients.

This must have been the wizarding part of London my dad had been mentioning.

There was so much going on, so many different things and shops and people, that, for the moment, I honestly forgot why was so upset with him.

Once again, he grabbed my wrist and began yanking me too quickly, this time down the middle of the cobbled street.

"Ow—can you—slow down!" I grumbled, stumbling over my penny loafers and nearly dropping the astronomy book.

What in the world had I gotten myself into?

It wasn't even 9 o'clock... we weren't ten minutes into our first tutoring session and I had already been kidnapped and nearly forced to break wizarding law.

If my parents knew that my tutor was currently pulling me though wizard London they would have fired him on the spot...

Which might not have been such a bad thing...

Maybe if they fired him, they'd hire Matty instead...

"Was this your plan—the whole time?" I asked, a little out of breath from trying to keep his brisk pace. "To kidnap me?"

James shrugged, stopping, finally, and looking around as if he was searching for something... or someone. "Nah... I'm not really into plans... that's more Remus's department—Ah! There it is!"

"Who's Remus?"

He never answered my question.

Instead, he pulled me by the wrist once more towards Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, an admittedly adorable little shop with quaint bistro tables out front. It was situated right beside a secondhand book shop that had a sale on historical non-fiction. I made a mental note to sneak away and check it out if I could.

It was at this point, being pulled in through the jingling door, that I realized I had forgotten my coin purse.

I looked up at James who was checking his watch once more. "James, I—"

"Can you grab us that table over there?" he said, either unaware or unconcerned that I was speaking.

"That table?" I said, wanting to clarify that he meant the table near the front window.

James nodded checking his watch again. "Yeah, you can... start reading chapter one—" he paused and looked around the counter for a moment, then grabbed a flimsy little napkin and put it in my hands. "Here, you can do the star charts on this."

I blinked.

It wasn't just the utter ridiculousness of him expecting me to chart something out on a stupid napkin that was astounding. It was that he really expected me to just be able to read the book and plot out stars like it was no big deal. His overestimation of my abilities was almost comical. He clearly hadn't yet grasped how much of a hopeless idiot I was.

I frowned doubtfully down at my napkin... "James I dunno if—"

The door jingled—a little family with an energetic daughter walked in.

James gave me a little shove towards the table. "Table, Higgs. I'll get the ice cream—"

Ice cream.

Darn it. I still didn't have any money...

"But I left my coin purse—"

James waved me off dismissively. "I said I've got it. Go get the table."

"But—"

"Table!"

There was no fighting him on this apparently, so I did as ordered and claimed the baby blue table and flipped to chapter one of the stupid astronomy book. Luckily, I still had a pencil shoved inside from the last time I tried to make a star chart during school. It really irked my professor when I'd use no-maj technology... but then again, everything I did irked my professor so it may have just been me.

Anyways, I now had all the supplies necessary for my first assignment and I was about to get ice cream... so at least things were on track to be a little less weird.

I had just finished aligning Regulus and Denebola in what was supposed to be a Leo chart (but looked more like I'd just stabbed my pencil at random on the napkin) when James rejoined me at the table... with what I guess was my ice cream.

"Uh... James... what is this?"

"Ice cream," he said with his mouth full of what I think was chocolate raspberry.

I looked down at the little cup of pink... so many strawberries.

"Um... James I..."

Okay, let's pause for a moment. First, I'm going to tell you how things _should_ have played out. I _should_ have told him right then that, while I appreciated him buying me the breakfast dessert, I was highly allergic to strawberries.

Lots of people have allergies.

It's literally not even a big deal.

But in case you haven't caught on, I overthink everything in my life until it _is_ a big deal.

Ugh, so in a typical crazy Paisley moment, I said the second most idiotic thing to ever pass my lips.

"Um... James... I... I don't think I can actually eat ice cream this early."

See? I told you.

Idiotic.

James shrugged, completely indifferent.

I frowned at the melting ice cream and retuned to plotting my stupid stars.

Who even needs to know how to plot stars out in real life? It's not like I was going to grow up and become a wizard pirate. And even if I did, there were much more advanced methods of navigation available to us now a days.

Stupid stars...

The door jingled and James's head whipped around so quickly I thought he might get whiplash.

I followed his gaze...

Two girls walked in.

One blonde, the other with auburn hair.

Both pretty.

Clementine pretty.

It wasn't hard to tell that it was the same two girls I'd spied from roof that Sunday.

The blonde one laughed rather loudly and shrilly as they stumbled in and made their way to the counter. The red head tried to shush her more out of politeness than anything.

James ruffled the back of his hair, staring at them with a weird look on his face. I wasn't really used to seeing anything besides condescending indifference for the past week so the change was really quite jarring.

"I'm going to pop over and say hello to some friends of mine—you gonna be alright here?"

He didn't even look at me as he spoke and I couldn't come up with a reason for him to stay sitting next to me—it's not like he was _actually_ tutoring me or anything.

"Oh... um yeah—yeah I'm t-totally alright... here..."

_Smooth, Paisley. So smooth._

He was out of his seat without another word.

I tried to focus on my text book. I tried to focus on the stupid ugly star chart. I tried to not care that he bought the other girls ice cream as well, or that he ended up sitting at their table laughing (well he and the blonde were laughing, the redhead seemed a little annoyed by him to be honest—couldn't blame her). I tried and tried to not notice how much shinier their hair was compared to mine, or how frumpy and grandmotherly my clothes were compared to theirs, or how effortlessly pretty and polished they were.

So utterly un-troll-like.

Which was probably why James chose to continue sitting with them instead of re-joining me.

There they all were, a bunch of pretty people all sitting at the stupid bistro table, munching on their ice cream, laughing and gossiping away.

And once again, here I was. Lurking troll in the corner.

And as if things weren't bad enough, I was stuck working on stupid _astronomy_!

I didn't know what I was more upset about. The fact that he ditched me, or that he was the worlds worst tutor and I was destined to flunk out of Hogwarts before I even set foot in Scotland.

Actually, let's just be honest, I was more upset he ditched me.

Once again I could tell I was being ridiculous. Absolutely irrational. A petty little troll monster.

I shouldn't have cared so much. It's not like I really enjoyed James Potter to begin with. He was annoying and arrogant and a rule breaker and made me feel even more awkward than I usually felt.

But I still couldn't stop the horrible sinking in my stomach knowing James happily skipped off to hang out with those nameless pretty girls instead of me.

I suppose part of me, deep down, hoped that maybe he secretly saw me as something other than the pathetic idiot who flunked all her classes and needed parental intervention to socialize. I think part of me believed that maybe I was pretty enough... spunky enough... interesting enough to hold his attention... That going out for ice cream was an act of kindness. But seeing him run off just proved how very wrong I was.

I finally realized why he picked this place.

Why he kept checking his stupid watch.

He may have denied being a planner, but it was most certainly _not_ a coincidence that we crossed paths with those girls.

He manipulated me, tricked me into going to get ice cream, not because he wanted to do something nice or study in a better venue—not because of anything to do with me—but, evidently, because he wanted to go hang out with other, cooler, prettier girls.

Story of my life.

My throat was tight and my eyes watered from the utter embarrassment of it all. I just wanted to leave.

But of course, I _couldn't_ because I was in freaking _London_.

I sniffled and busied myself with the stupid star chart once more to get my mind off of things, painfully aware of their conversation from across the little shop. They were talking about some singer named Stubby Boardman who was allegedly having a secret show in London.

The door jingled and I didn't even want to look up, lest it be another stupid girl he'd rather hang out with over me. Was I proud of being a jealous troll monster? No. But that's where I was at the moment. No use denying it.

I felt someone approach me and assumed it was a store employee there to take my melted strawberry ice cream away—I hoped I hadn't offended them by not eating it.

They sort of lingered there for a while, but I was too shy to really acknowledge them.

A rather large hand pointed at my napkin star chart. "Regulus doesn't go there."

I blinked, getting a good whiff of boy and sandalwood before staring up in horror at none other than Sirius Black.

Because my life couldn't possibly get any worse.

He frowned slightly at my chart, then sat down across from me, gesturing for the pencil and napkin. "Mind if I—?"

Bemused, I managed a shy shake of my head, face burning as the horrible events of Sunday evening played on a loop in my mind.

But he didn't seem to be compelled by the same intense awkwardness that I was, nor the distracted restlessness of James, but rather by an aloof, contemplative spirit.

I think that butchered star chart really irked him.

After a moment or two, he was still hard at work, biting his lip, erasing most of the stars I'd plotted and moving them around, when I heard the blonde sitting with James whine, "Sirius! What are you doing? Come hang out with us!"

He rolled his eyes. "In a minute, Marls," he said loud enough to be heard, yet not lifting his head in the slightest.

'Marls' as I now knew was the blonde, pouted a little but didn't bug him further.

Eventually, he put the finishing touches on his napkin stars and pushed it towards me across the table. "There... fixed..."

I frowned a little. "Only had to erase, what? Half of the work I did?" I said quietly before I could stop myself.

He blinked, then leaned forward. Good gracious he smelled good. "No, look—you just had Regulus off by a few degrees which set the whole thing off—it's a really easy mistake to make. Actually, you did a pretty decent job... considering you were plotting on a napkin..."

"Oh..." I think that was a complement... but I wasn't sure.

I expected that after correcting my little assignment he would run off to join James and _Marls_.

But he didn't.

He sort of just sat there, aloof and mildly bored as he looked around the shop.

I tried not to look at him.

Why wouldn't he just leave?

He was making this weird.

"You didn't like the ice cream?" he said, pointing to the little cup of pink poison sludge by my book.

"I'm allergic to strawberries..." I said, words falling out of my mouth before I could stop myself, not meeting his eyes.

More awkward silence.

Sirius ran a hand through his hair, glancing back at James and the girls, then back to me... several times...

I thought he would never leave. But he _finally_ got up when I started flipping to chapter two and walked toward the counter.

With him gone, I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

I was upset about James ditching me before... but with Sirius I was thankful he was going to leave me to tend to my mediocre astronomy alone. Him being there was nerve racking.

However, my reprieve didn't last long.

Not two minutes later he plopped himself back down across the table, handing me one of two large vanilla ice cream cones.

Oh my goodness it looked _heavenly_. Perfect. Like the kind of ice cream they have in pictures that you never actually see in real life.

I reached out but he snatched it out of my grasp at the last moment, raising an eyebrow. "You're not allergic to waffle cones too, are you?"

I laughed, surprising myself, and shook my head. "Nope... Nope, just strawberries."

He almost smiled back.

"Ugh! Sirius!" huffed Marls once more. "It's been _more_ than a minute!"

Once again, Sirius rolled his eyes, then he leaned forward, whispering, "Are you _actually_ working on astronomy homework, or are you just keeping yourself busy while James makes a fool of himself over there?"

His straight forward question caught me off guard. "I— I um... well I guess I'm not really... uh..."

Again... my eloquence was astounding.

He sighed. "Look, I know this is going to sound weird... but I kind of need an excuse to not hang out with _them_ right now..."

I met his icy blue eyes, ignoring the cold trickle of ice cream dripping down my wrist. I sensed that same desperation from the other night when he was so angry. I had a feeling that he very much wanted to avoid talking about whatever went down the last time they were together. Anxiety induced avoidance was something I was all too familiar with.

"Um... I mean... I— I could be your um... excuse?" I said awkwardly, before looking back down at the star chart now splattered with melted vanilla ice cream. "If you needed me to be... that is..."

He studied me for a moment longer than I was comfortable with, then leaned back. His face morphed into a cocky grin, not unlike James'. "Prongs, you don't mind if I steal Higgs for a while, do you?" he called out with more bravado.

James, whom I assume was also 'Prongs', looked puzzled, eyes darting between me and my ice cream and Sirius as if none of those things together made any sense to him at all.

"But I thought you were going to hang out with _us_?" Marls said sharply, hardly hiding her annoyance behind an insincere smile.

I really should have just let him handle things, but I caught sight of the secondhand bookshop through the window and before I could stop myself I blurted out, "We—we uh.... We're going to look at... uh... books..."

Good gravy that was the stupidest thing I could have said. 

Marls didn't hide her annoyance anymore, giving a blatant 'you've got to be kidding me,' look to Sirius.

"Books?" the red head said, raising an eyebrow, lips quirking into a small amused smile.

"Yes, Evans... _books_..." Sirius said through his teeth, giving me a look that said I should really not say anything else. "So, James, is that alright?"

James was still baffled by the whole situation. "Uh... well I suppose—"

"Brilliant! Come on, Higgs. Can't keep those... _books..._ waiting..."


	7. You’re Allowed To Call Me an Arsehole

The ice cream parlor door jingled as Sirius ushered me out, grinning and glancing back at the others until we reached the secondhand bookstore next door, out of sight.

" _Books_?!" he said, jabbing his finger towards the display— smile no where to be found. "Merlin, Higgs— are you _trying_ to ruin my reputation?!"

I had absolutely no idea how books would ruin ones reputation.

Yes, I'll admit, my delivery was a little disjointed and out of place, but the excuse seemed entirely plausible. Lots of people liked books and I was technically on a tutoring field trip. A bookstore was arguably a better outing location than an ice cream parlor given the circumstances.

He was really upset though... so I'd obviously done something wrong. "I-I'm sorry— I-I didn't mean to— I really wasn't trying to—to—"

"It's fine. Let's just get this over with." He rolled his eyes, taking a big bite of his ice cream before moodily gesturing for me to proceed into the all but abandoned shop.

Now, I know this was all my idea, but I have a confession to make. I'm not really all that fond of reading as a rule. I mean I always enjoy it in the beginning... The rush of getting a new book is always charged with such idealistic excitement. It's what's led me to own so many of the stupid things. But once I actually sit down and get to the business of reading, I usually find that it takes too long and I get bored too quickly and so I rarely finish any of the books I start.

But that doesn't keep me from trying to buy new ones any chance I can get.

It's a vicious cycle, really.

Anyways, back to my weird adventure with Sirius. He needed some time to cool off so I wandered away from the transfiguration books by the window where he was sulking, down a cramped aisle of shelves, eating the ice cream he got me (It was very good and I made a mental note to thank him when I got back), following the signs to "British history". I really liked history and they were on sale so it seemed like a good place to start.

Of course, the _sale_ part wasn't as important since I couldn't actually buy anything that day—Not unless we made a pit stop to my dad's office (which was absolutely not happening) or back home so I could grab my coin purse, but I figured I could make a list of the things I wanted and guilt mom into buying me them later under the guise of needing them to study.

I had just about finished my ice cream cone when I found the dusty, tucked away alcove of half-priced history.

It. Was. Beautiful.

Okay, _beautiful_ might be a little deceiving. It was sort of a mess. But within the mess was _everything_ : The Anglo-Saxon migration, the Vikings, The Medieval Assembly of European Wizards, The War of the Roses.... And they didn't just have books—there were primary sources! Journals, scrolls, letters, and other first hand accounts that dated back _centuries_ —and even some artifacts crammed in odd corners and perched on the very tippy tops of shelves. I swear I even saw a pamphlet from The International Warlock Convention of 1289.

This was a historian's heaven! So why were these things in a bookstore that was about one shoplifter away from going out of business? Why weren't these things in a museum?

"What a load of rubbish," Sirius said behind me, making me jump and nearly drop my ice cream-less cone. He had already finished his. "Can you believe they actually try to sell this shite to people?" he scoffed, poking a small gold contraption inscribed with ancient runes.

I saw his big hand moving to assault another oddly bent golden artifact. "Don't!" I yelped, swatting him away.

He jerked his hand back as if he'd touched a hot stove and looked down at me in alarm, pale blue eyes trading their aloof scowl for something more akin to fear.

My face burned and my stomach turned to static.

I didn't mean to scare him. I just didn't want him to break the artifact.

He composed himself quickly, however, and slowly looked back at the heap of metal. "Good call—probably jinxed."

 _Jinxed_?

"But that's not why I—"

"Come on, let's get out of here."

"But I—"

"There's a dress shop down the road right next to Quality Quidditch Supplies—You can look around while I pick up some gear," he said, flipping through a dusty book on werewolves of the Middle Ages, eyeing it critically.

I didn't want to go to a dress shop.

I didn't even _like_ dress shops.

I _wanted_ to stay where I was.

My protest rose in my throat... but in my throat is where it stayed... because I am merely anxiety clothed in human.

He closed the book with a thump that sent dust particles wizzing around the alcove and I felt his eyes on me once more. "What's with the face?"

I blinked up at him. "What—what face?"

He frowned a little. "You made a face."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. I mentioned the dress shop and you—well, you made a face."

"I literally have no idea what you're talking abou—"

"There! You did it again!" He pointed his aristocratic finger at me.

"Did _what_?!"

"The _face_!" he said with more expression of his own than he'd made the entire time we had been alone together.

I still had no idea what 'face' he was referring to, but if I had to stake a guess it was probably linked to the amount of annoyance I felt for him at any particular moment.

Uninterested in having my facial expressions scrutinized any longer, I shouldered past him, walking pointedly towards the exit, muttering, "Let's just go so I can... look at the _dresses_... or whatever..."

I pushed the door open a little too forcefully (and felt guilty because I nearly hit him in the face when it swung closed), then went out onto the cobbled street even though I had no idea where anything was. Once again my temper was the one calling the shots.

He trotted to join me with ease. "You're making the face again."

I rolled my eyes and kept walking towards nothing in particular. 

"Do you even know where you're going?"

I should have said no. Or maybe even lied and said yes. But instead what came out of my mouth was a particularly scathing, "Away from you."

Sirius was still following after me. "Merlin's Beard, you buy a bird some ice cream and this is how you're treated—"

I rounded on my heel to face him, much less gracefully than planned (my hair got in my mouth and I had to sputter to get it out), then said, "I'm not a _bird_ and I never _asked_ you to buy me anything!"

The beginnings of a smirk pulled at his lips which only infuriated me more. "I was being a _gentleman_."

"No, a _gentleman_ would have asked what I wanted first! _You_ were being a-a—a—!"

"An arsehole?" He was hardly hiding his amusement at this point.

I scowled further and stomped away towards some big impressive white building.

He followed.

"You're allowed to call me an arsehole, you know."

I continued to stomp towards the building. I think it was a bank.

"Is this about the dress shop? Because you can come to the Quidditch store if you really want to—"

"Oh, _now_ you care what I want..." I mumbled but he still heard me.

He moved quicker than I thought he would and blocked my path so that I had to face him. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?" There was no more amusement.

I stared up at him practically quaking with emotions leftover from being ditched earlier, trying _very_ hard to ignore the fact that he smelled very good and that he was close enough that I could feel his warmth radiating off of him. The words flew out before I could stop them, "I _mean_ that neither you, nor anyone else for that matter, has taken the time to ask me what I actually _want_ all day."

His stupid perfect eyebrows furrowed together and his jaw clenched, which to any sane person would have been their cue to shut the heck up. But this is me we're talking about and social cues are difficult for me to read in the best of circumstances.

"You didn't _care_ if I actually _wanted_ to go to some stupid dress shop—you just assumed I would because I'm a girl! Just like how no one cared to ask if I _wanted_ any ice cream—!"

"But you _did_ want it! You ate the whole thing!"

"Ugh! That's not the point!" I squeezed my eyes shut and made my hands into little fists. "The point is that you didn't _ask_ me what I wanted! No one _ever_ does!"

Again, this would have been an excellent time to shut up.

"You know, James never even told me where we were going? I just got dragged along—all for what? So he could ditch me to hang out with the 'cool kids'?" I scoffed, tears prickling in my eyes. "This is why I didn't want him as my tutor in the first place! I _knew_ something like this would happen! He can't even stand to be around me! But no one listened to me! No one _cared_! Just like how no one freaking cared that I didn't want to come to this _stupid_ , god forsaken _country_!"

My last words came out broken and shrill, hanging awkwardly in the summer air. It took several of these awkward hanging moments to realize I'd shared way, _way_ too much of my own private struggle with this boy who was essentially a stranger. 

A stranger who had bought me ice cream, saved me from sitting all alone, and who was probably just trying to save me from the boredom of going into some sports shop. All things considered, he'd actually been pretty nice. And here I was yelling at him like a lunatic. Bad mouthing his best friend.

 _Great_.

_Crazy Paisley strikes again._

I stared down at my scuffed up penny loafers. Shame pouring over me in waves. I couldn't bare to see the judgment in his eyes. Couldn't stand to look at the face I'd seen a thousand times on a thousand other people. The look that confirmed all the worst thoughts about myself. My heartbeat rose and my palms got all sweaty—no matter how much I tried to wipe them off on the side of my frumpy sweater. "I-I'm sorry... I— I-I'm just having a bad day... I didn't mean to... I should have never—"

"Where do you want to go?"

His voice cut through my ramblings.

Calm.

Unaffected.

Maybe even a tad bored.

I blinked up at him, tucking my hair behind my ears. My hands were trembling. "Wha-what?"

He sighed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. His face was still a little stiff, but was back to his usual aloof scowl which I guess was a good thing.... "You just made a whole goddamn speech about how no one ever asks what you want to do... So... I'm _asking_... Where do you want to go?"

Clearly I hadn't thought this all the way through.

"Oh... Um..."

If he had asked me earlier, I would have said I wanted to go back to the bookstore. But after my emotional vomit all I wanted to do was go home and hide in my bed... only I _couldn't_ go home. If I went home this early Mom would ask why I wasn't at tutoring and then I'd have to explain the whole exhausting situation to her and then she'd make it into some big thing...

Ugh. 

And as much as James Potter sucked as a tutor, I didn't have the heart to get him fired on his first day.

He sighed loudly, tapping his foot. "Look, I really need to go pick up something from the Quidditch store—so can we kind of hurry this up?"

I looked up at him sharply.

He was smirking. "You're making the 'Sirius Black is an Arsehole' face again."

_Oh lovely, he'd given it a name._

I walked away from what I was now sure was a bank, back towards the main path. "Let's just go to the stupid sports store—I'll think of something after."

"Alright," he shrugged, walking alongside me. "But for the love of Merlin, please don't make me go into any more creepy bookshops—"

I rolled my eyes. "It's wasn't _creepy_."

"You obviously didn't see the way the shrunken heads were looking at us," he muttered.

_Shrunken heads?!_

I looked up at him, horrified. "Wait— what?! There were not—where—what—?!"

He let out a barking laugh. "Oh man, you totally believed me, didn't you?!"

Yes.

"No!"

"Yes, you did!" He bumped my shoulder with his, smile from his laughter still ghosted upon his face. 

It was such a casual invasion of my personal space.

He acted as if it was a perfectly normal thing.

But it wasn't.

It was weird.

I mean like weird in sort of a really nice way...

But definitely weird.

I rolled my eyes once more, fighting to not smile as we approached a gleaming red shop with broomsticks levitated in the window display. "Let's just get this over with..."


	8. Border Collie Stare

I sort of wish I had gone to the stupid dress shop.

Sports stores are always such a bore.

I know. I know what you're thinking. "But Paisley, don't you _love_ Quodpot?! Didn't you steal a broom and get yourself pecked by a bunch of psychotic bluejays all because you wanted to fly?"

And you, of course, have brought up two excellent points.

But here's the thing you need to understand about all that... I only stole the broom because I wanted to be like Clemy. She was my big sister— my super cool, talented, awesome, big sister. Who wouldn't want to be like her?

I'd grown up hearing stories about how she was a natural athlete— from the second she rode her first broom at the tender age of three. I'd watched, nestled in my mother's thunderbird blanket in the roaring stands as she soared through the sky at her school games, golden hair flying behind her, zooming past the opposing team to dunk the game winning Quod in the pot just as the buzzer blared. I'd seen the looks of pride on my parents faces when she'd run onto the field with her sparkling white smile and misty blue eyes.

A look of pride I'd never been able to inspire.

My parents had the good sense to keep me as far away from flying objects as possible growing up; I was as accident prone as kids came— but part of me always wondered... if they _had_ let me fly when I was younger, like they had with Clemy, maybe I would have been good at it too.

But we all know how _that_ plan worked out.

With me. In a tree. Being pecked to death by angry pink bluejays until a confused, but kind little boy wearing patched up overalls, climbed off his bike and up said tree to save me.

Matty hadn't stopped saving me ever since.

Which brings us back to why I love Quodpot. I love it because Matty loves it. It's really as simple as that. It's also the reason I got into comics— because Matty was obsessed with them.

But the name of that shop I was stuck in wasn't Quality _Quodpot_ Supplies... it was Quality _Quidditch_ Supplies.

Quidditch. A stupid, complicated game with no explosions, which I had absolutely no emotional investment in, nor any desire to understand.

I kept my opinion of the sport to myself, however, as I walked in Sirius's shadow through the rows and rows of broom detailing kits, protective equipment, and memorabilia. No need to needlessly drum up any enemies.

After what felt like hours (but was probably more like forty-five minutes), Sirius finally decided what he was going to get. He set a round, metal contraption— which he had explained was a compass of sorts— and a pair of expensive, top-of-the-line, specialty, dragon-hide gloves on the old wooden counter.

The store clerk, a stout boy, a little older than us with brown hair, a crooked nose kind of like Matty's, and _tons_ of freckles like me, eyed the items for a moment then looked up. "Black..." he said, picking up the gloves trying to hand them back. "These are chasers gloves."

(Oh, the clerk was also Scottish. Forgot to mention that part.)

Sirius seemed like he was trying very hard not to smile. "Excellent observation, Wood."

"No, didn't ye hear me? You've got _chasers_ gloves here—"

"Exactly."

"No—but they won't—" Wood caught the mischievous glint in Sirius's eyes the same time I did, though it must've made more sense to him. "Och! You've got to be kiddin' me!" He threw the gloves back on to the counter. "No! No, you've got to be _barmy_ if you think I'm sellin' _you_ chasers gloves!"

Sirius seemed expectant, a smirk now threatening to pull at his lips. "I don't think you have much of a choice, mate."

The clerk rolled his eyes. "You're just taking the mick, aren't ye? Tell me you're buying these for Potter."

"I don't know why I would..." The corner of Sirius's mouth twitched. "Considering James is going for _Seeker_ next season—"

"HE _WHAT_?!"

The sheer volume of Wood's words startled me and I took a step back, bumping into a jingling display full of keychains for a bunch of teams I'd never heard of. It sort of hurt. Sirius look back at me, amused and entirely unsympathetic, then turned back to the clerk, even more amused. "We really don't have all day, Wood, so if you could please—"

" _SEEKER_?! OF ALL THE—THAT SHOWBOATING _DOLT_! HE'S GOING TO _RUIN_ THE TEAM I SPENT _FIVE YEARS_ PERFECTING—"

"Wood, you're scaring Higgs."

"WHO DOES HE THINK HE IS?!"

"Captain, I'd assume."

"HIM? _SEEKER_?! MERLINS BALLS—OF ALL THE FUCKED UP—" Wood cut himself off and looked at me, shamefaced, a blush creeping up his neck. "Em... Sorry for the language, Ma'am..."

"Oh... um..." I tucked my hair behind my ears and crossed my arms over my chest, surprised he remembered I was there.

Sirius shook his head, reaching in his pocket. "Can you just let me pay you already?"

Wood scowled at Sirius, then took a deep breath, pressing buttons on the cash register as he muttered under his breath. "Chaser? _You_? I just can't believe it... Eleven Sickles."

"Got change for a Galleon?" Sirius smirked, flipping the golden coin in the air.

Wood seemed personally offended and snatched the coin mid-air, fiddling with the register once again. "I expect Marls had an absolute _cow_ when you told her."

Sirius stiffened subtly at my side, pausing before answering. "Hasn't come up, actually."

Wood paused, eyes wide. " _You_ _haven't told her yet_?"

"She'll get over it," Sirius said, a definite bite to his voice.

Wood glanced from me to Sirius, raising an eyebrow. "Where _is_ Marls?"

"Does it _matter_?"

Seemed like it did.

Wood spared a long puzzled look at me, that made me very much wish I'd gone to the stupid dress shop once again, then turned back to Sirius. "Did you two...?"

I followed his gaze, stomach sinking for some inexplicable reason...

Sirius tapped his fingers on the counter. "I haven't got all day, Wood."

Wood's eyebrows rose, still puzzled, but after a few clicks and dings, returned Sirius his due change. "Need a bag?"

Sirius grabbed the metal compass thing and the gloves and stuffed them in his jacket pockets. "Nah, I've got it."

Wood took a long breath, scratching the back of his neck. "Good luck with chaser—I mean, I still think you're off your rocker to go for anything but beater—but cheers all the same."

Sirius let out a hoarse laugh. "See you around, mate— C'mon, Higgs."

I followed after him, mind buzzing with questions as we walked back onto the cobbled street...

"You know that guy?" I asked even though it was obvious that he did.

Sirius's eyes squinted in the sunlight. "Wood just graduated— he was Gryffindor quidditch captain for ages."

Okay, that made more sense.

"Why was he so mad?"

He laughed. "Because he hasn't got a life of his own to obsess over..."

"That's a little rude."

" _He's_ a little rude."

I made 'The Face' and Sirius sighed. "A few of the old players graduated along with Wood, so James and I are both trying out for different positions on the team this year. But Wood has a hard time with change... Takes shite like that really personally."

Alright, this was making more sense... There was only one thing I still didn't understand. "What'd he mean with all that stuff about Mar—"

"I'm hungry," Sirius said, ignoring that I was speaking. "Mind if we pop by the Leaky Cauldron for a bite?"

Yes. I did mind.

Just like how I minded that he was intentionally avoiding my question and talking over me.

However, the words that came out of my mouth were, "Sure... why not..."

* * *

"You should try the bread pudding— it's the best around," Sirius said, face hidden behind an old and tattered menu.

I hummed in acknowledgment, continuing my search for chicken tenders. That was always my go to meal when I went to restaurants back home or on the weekends with Matty. Every place had it and it required no special accommodations for my picky eating sensibilities.

Then I remembered I forgot my coin purse.

Shoot.

I never did find the chicken tenders, so maybe it was for the best...

I put my own menu down on the sticky table waiting as Sirius flipped back and forth, trying to decide what he wanted.

"Ready to order?" a waitress asked, pulling out a notepad from her apron. She was young and tan, with brown eyes, and blonde hair tied into a high ponytail— also, she seemed pretty tired. She looked without expression from me to Sirius, then took a double take. "Sirius Black, is that you?!" she exclaimed.

Good gravy, was there anyone this boy didn't know?

Sirius put down the menu with a forced grin. I know it was forced because it was the same sort of look he used back at the ice cream shop when he was talking to the others— the kind that didn't really reach his eyes— not that I was noticing the way he smiled... or his eyes...

"I didn't realize you worked here, Maisie."

The girl giggled. "It's my first week."

"That would explain it... "Sirius said with a forced chuckle (again, not that I was noticing the way he chuckled— it was just obvious... to me, at least. Maisie totally bought it).

The girl sort of stared at him with a dreamy smile for a moment before remembering that she was supposed to take our orders. "Oh, um... what can I get you? The pea soup is really bad today— so I wouldn't get that if I were you. I mean you can get whatever you want— Obviously—Its just that this old guy kept saying it gave him gas— but that could have just been because he was old— and I mean obviously you can get whatever you like— I just— "

Irritation flashed across Sirius's face for the briefest moment, making his brows scrunch together and eyes narrow— but it was gone a second later— back to the forced smile. "I'll have Bangers and Mash with a butterbeer— and some bread pudding on the side," he said, handing her the menu back.

The girl blinked rapidly, then fumbled to scribble down his order on her note pad. "Bangers and Mash... butterbeer... and... and..." There was an awkward pause and she tapped her quill against the note pad, racking her brain for the words he just said, growing more and more flustered and embarrassed by the second.

Bless her heart.

The silence stretched much too long and I got the impression he was enjoying watching her suffer.

"Bread Pudding," he said at long last.

She let out a sigh of relief and brought her hand to her head in a 'duh' fashion. "Right... Bread pudding... Anything else?" she asked, looking up at him.

He smiled politely. "Well... whatever Paisley's getting, of course."

I think Maisie forgot I was there. It happens more often than you would expect.

She looked at me, puzzled. Disappointed.

"Um... I'm not going to get anything actually..." I said, tucking my hair behind my ears and looking back at Sirius. He seemed confused. "I forgot my coin purse..." I added quietly.

"Oh, don't worry about that!" he said, waving his hand dismissively. "Go on and order."

Maisie's brow furrowed as her brown eyes moved from Sirius to me.

"Sirius..." I hissed, face heating up. "I don't think you understand— I don't have any money—"

"I've got it. Just order the damn food, Higgs."

I gave him 'The Face™' for cursing at me which prompted nothing in him but an impatient nod towards the menu.

I didn't really want him to pay for all my stuff... but I was also sort of hungry... And this was all his idea anyway...

I could only imagine how this looked to poor Maisie though.

She seemed to be putting on a brave face despite her disappointment.

Since there were no chicken tenders I went with my British backup. "Fish and chips, please— and a Doctor Pepper."

"Fish and chips..." she muttered, writing the order down carefully. "And a... a what?"

"Um... Doctor Pepper?"

Her face was blank.

Of course they didn't have Doctor Pepper here...

"On second thought... maybe just a sweet tea?"

Her face had graduated from blank to downright confused. "Sweet... _tea_?"

Sirius's mouth quirked at the corner and I had the urge to kick him under the table. I didn't though. Ten points to Paisley.

"Um... Yeah... Its iced tea... only with sugar..."

"You want _Ice_... _in_ your tea?" she asked, mildly horrified.

"Uh... yes?"

She was still confused, but scribbled down the order regardless. "Suit yourself..." she muttered. then turned her attention back to Sirius. "Anything else?"

He forced a roguish smile once again. "I think we're all set... Thanks, Maisie."

Then he winked.

And Maisie did her best not to swoon.

She walked off blushing as he chuckled under his breath.

The second she rounded the corner to the kitchen, I kicked him under the table .

"Ow! What was that for?"

"You know good and well what it was for!"

"Again, you could act a little more grateful the next time a bloke buys you food—"

"You were flirting with her!" I said grumpily.

Sirius at least had the decency to act surprised... Then he smirked— a true smirk this time—raising an eyebrow. "Jealous?"

I kicked him again.

"Bloody hell woman, that hurts!" he grumbled, smirk gone.

"You flirted with her even though you have no interest in her!" I said, giving my best scowl.

Sirius rolled his eyes, and ran a hand through his hair. "And how do you know I'm not interested?"

I didn't.

I don't even know why I was having this conversation. It was sort of an impulsive thing.

Maybe he did like her... maybe I was reading this all wrong... They actually knew each other after all— probably better than Sirius and I knew each other.... Good Merlin, I was being ridiculous and presumptuous and I must've sounded like I was _actually_ jealous— which I wasn't...

But then he smirked when he thought I wasn't looking and I _knew_ I was right.

"You're not." I crossed my arms over my chest, staring him down in that unwavering way Matt's Border Collies stare down the cows on his farm. Daring them to make the next move— to call their bluff.

To his credit, Sirius held out for an extraordinarily long time, much longer than Matty ever did, but finally looked away with a loud breath, waving his hand in an elegantly dismissive way. "Well I'm an arsehole, what do you expect?"

"That's a crappy excuse and you know it."

"Oh get off your high horse, Higgs. It's not like you're any better—"

" _Excuse me_?!"

Sirius rolled his eyes, looking positively un-handsome. "I heard the howler your boyfriend sent you, remember?"

"Matty isn't my boyfriend!"

Sirius was unconvinced. "Regardless, what kind of person— nay, what kind of _arsehole_ ignores their best friend for three weeks?"

Woah. Low blow.

I have no idea if my cheeks were heating up because I was embarrassed or because I wanted to hit him. Probably both. "I— that wasn't— you don't— You don't know _anything_!"

"I know more than you," he laughed humorously. "At least I didn't _flunk_ all my exams."

My breath caught in my throat.

His words hung in the air... ringing in my ears.

He wasn't holding back any punches.

And that's what it felt like.

Like I'd been punched right in the gut.

I had already assumed that James told him about my situation... but to throw it in my face like that?

He really _was_ an arsehole....

I got up from my seat, muttering a "screw you," which was probably the closest I'd ever got to cursing someone out, and rushed towards the big fireplace James and I had arrived there in. There was a painful lump in my throat, tears already beginning to fall. I had to get out of there. I'd already been mortified enough for one day.

I looked around and saw some Floo-powder sitting on the mantle in a clay pot— which to this day I am convinced was an act of God—grabbed a handful then nearly tripped getting into the fireplace.

The two last things I saw before the world went green and I zoomed back to our boring cottage in Godric's Hollow was Sirius running after me, and behind him Maisie, placing a bowl of sugar cubes, a tall glass of ice, and a steaming cup of tea on the table.


	9. Are We... Good?

Someone rang the doorbell.

Actually... someone rang the doorbell _three_ times, quickly and all in a row but it was clearly meant to be understood as one aggressive _ding dong_.

Groaning, I drug myself out of my messy bed and turned down the Willy Nelson album I'd been wallowing to. I was the only one home which meant I had to at least see who it was. I caught a quick peek in the mirror on my way to the door. Not cute.

It had been about half an hour since my escape from that British jerk face, Sirius, and I had miraculously managed to calm myself down, yet my face still looked like I'd just cried my eyes out (which, considering I _had_ just cried my eyes out, made perfect sense... but still).

My copper hair was all messy and tangled, my freckled face was blotchy, nose red, my not quite blue, not quite green eyes were puffy and swollen, mascara smeared.

Ugh.

Again, not cute.

There were probably spells to fix the damage, but even if I was allowed to do magic, I wouldn't have known what they were nor how to do them.

But Clemy would.

It may have been a strange thing given that a mysterious person anxiously awaited my presence downstairs—but as I stared back the pathetically melancholy mirror girl, I searched for a trace of Clementine Higgs; searched for some sign that we were actually related.

I don't know _why_ it mattered at that moment, but it did. Maybe if I could find _something_ of hers in that mirror... maybe it would make things better...

I think we had the same nose.

It was a nice nose, as far as noses went—fairly standard, if you ask me—and I guess our ears were similar as well... and we both had Dad's teeth—only they looked nice in Clemy's mouth. They made me look more akin to a chipmunk... or so I'd been told—not by Clemy, but by plenty of people at school.

However, I think the thing that stood out most, even through the horrible crying mess, was our eyes.

If I had to pick something on my face that I liked—something that was the most _Clemy_ —it would be my eyes. They didn't twinkle like hers or draw people into them like a fathomless ocean blue whirlpool—but they were big and unique. I took a weird sense of pride in the fact that I'd never met anyone with my color eyes. Not quite blue, not quite green.

Granted, they weren't much to be proud of at that moment.

On that note, I tip-toed down the stairs to the front door (taking care to avoid the squeaky steps). Mom still wasn't around, or at least she wasn't when I ran through the house crying my eyes out like a damsel in distress or when I'd come down fifteen minutes after looking for some tortilla chips to snack on. I guessed she had gone out to run errands, which wouldn't have been such a bad thing... except that it meant I would have to be the one to greet the visitor instead of her.

I hated answering the door, as a rule.

The further I climbed down those stairs the less I wanted to open the door... if I opened it I'd almost certainly have to talk to someone which was almost certainly the type of torture outlawed by the eighth amendment back in the States (Did the British have a law against cruel and unusual punishment too?)

After making a mental note to look up some info on Britain's basic human rights laws, I found myself sidestepping some yellow boots in the front room, eye to eye with the peephole.

My anxiety was kicking in at full capacity by this point, so _not_ answering the door seemed like a pretty solid course of action. But I still needed to know who I was rejecting.

I stood up on my tip-toes, hardly daring to breathe too loudly, leaning my not quite green, not quite blue eye towards the little peephole and—

_DING DONG DING DONG DING DONG!_

Startled, I slammed my forehead and nose against the door.

"Ow! Dangit!" I said much too loudly.

A second later, rubbing my head and aching nose, I cringed because whoever was on the other side _definitely_ heard me... which meant now I _had_ to answer the door.

It's one thing to ignore people and pretended to not be home... it was a whole other tier of rude to not answer the door when the person _knows_ your home and just ignoring them.

There was no way out of this surprise social interaction and my body responded in the usual way, though it might have been a little more intense after being so fretful post-pub drama. My heart was doing that erratic thing where it beat so hard that I could hear the blood rushing in my ears and my mouth suddenly felt a little dry and my hands had a slight tremor that no amount of deep breathing techniques was fixing.

Maybe it would help to know what I was dealing with?

I stood up on wobbly toes and looked through the peephole once more.

They didn't aggressively ding dong this time, for which I was thankful.

I don't know who I expected to see. A mailman? A friendly neighbor lady? A Girl Scout selling cookies? (Did they have girl scouts in England?)

First, there was black, elegant, sort of curly hair.

Then the trademark aloof, bored, and mildly irritated facial expression.

Yep. You guessed it.

No cute little badge-wearing brownies trying to pawn off overpriced, yet delicious, packaged treats. It was Sirius Black.

I have no earthly idea what possessed me at that moment, maybe the anxiety made me finally snap, maybe I was possessed by the spirit of Matty, or maybe it was just my impulsivity plotting making my life an actual living hell... but I somehow I found myself opening the door.

He stared at me.

And I just sort of stared back.

In silence.

The awkward kind.

Why was he at my house?

He seemed so out of place standing on our 'Home Sweet Home' doormat with 'O's replaced with the shape of Texas. It was like my first year at Illvermorny, seeing Matty wearing school robes instead of overalls. It made sense, logically. But it was strange. Out of place. Two normal things smooshed together to make one weird thing.

Sirius's eyes scanned my face, and his own features flashed with some unreadable expression (surprise?), before settling at another, unreadable, but definitely more uncomfortable expression.

He scratched the back of his neck which really made me upset because it showed off how strong his arms were.

Ugh. Stupid athleticism was throwing off my game.

Not that I had any to begin with...

Anyways, he looked uncomfortable and objectively attractive, cleared his throat and said, "I didn't think you were actually home."

I stared at him.

Why wouldn't I be home?

Didn't he hear me say my destination to the floo-powder powers that be?

"The lights weren't on... I thought..." he trailed off.

I was actually very intrigued to know what he thought, but I kept my mouth shut. The longer we stood there in awkward silence the more he probably realized how stupid it was that he thought I wouldn't be home.

His eyes flitted over my face once more and I was suddenly reminded of the hot mess I'd gazed at only minutes prior.

He moved his hand and awkwardly presented me with my astronomy textbook. It still had the pencil and napkin Star chart shoved inside. "You—you forgot this..." he said, clearing his throat.

"And that's why you came over?" I said, taking the book from his hands. "To return my book?"

"Er..." He scratched his neck, shifting his feet, scowling and not meeting my eyes. "Not exactly."

" _Not exactly_?" I repeated, irritated. "Did you leave out some great insult earlier? Come to tell me I look like a troll or something—"

"No! You don't even— _Ugh_!" he ran his hands through his hair and met my eyes with such intensity I had to take a step back towards the front door. "Why are you making this so _difficult_?!"

" _Difficult_?!" I said incredulously, taking a bold step forward. "How am I the one being—"

"Would you just let me speak!" he snapped.

He was huffing and puffing, obviously out of sorts. I stared at him with border collie eyes, one hand on the door in case I needed to slam it in his face. "Fine... speak."

He took a few deep breaths, staring at a spider web in the corner of our porch. "I'm an arsehole."

"I think we've established that."

"I—" He opened his mouth then shut it. Then he spoke again. "I shouldn't have—I shouldn't have said all that... back at the pub."

"No, you shouldn't have."

We stood there for a while longer, both quietly contemplating his mistake I presume.

"So?" he said at last.

"So?" I repeated.

"So, are we... _good_?"

Were we _good_?

"Um..."

No. No. He was a gigantic jerk muffin.

"No," I said moving to shut the door in this handsome face. We were most certainly _not_ good.

He put his hand out to the door to keep it from shutting. " _No_?"

I tugged on the door, but he was stronger than me. "No, we aren't _good_."

"But I apologized!"

"No, you didn't."

"I said I shouldn't have said it!"

"That's not actually an apology."

"I came all the way here—admitted I was wrong—What more do you want from me?!" he cried out, throwing his hands in the air like a child who hadn't gotten his way.

"Well, the words 'I'm sorry' would be a good start."

He stared me down as if I was trying to trick him, or maybe make him look like a fool—in other words, like a prideful little boy. "I don't see why I have to—"

I started to close the door in his face again. He lunged and held it open, now standing quite close—good heavens why did he have to smell so stinking good?

"Are you _really_ going to make me say it?" he asked, still eyeing me down like I was trying to embarrass him.

"If you want James to keep his summer job... then yes."

I'd, of course, realized before this that he only showed up at my door asking for forgiveness so that I'd keep quiet on how horrible a tutor his best friend was. I was going to keep my mouth shut either way (I needed to pass fifth year after all) but Sirius didn't need to know that. Besides, I think he was learning a valuable lesson on the consequences of ones actions.

He stared me down with an odd expression as if he was searching for something. It was completely nerve-racking. It took every bit of bravery I possessed to not back down.

"I say it and we're good, right?" he said slowly, quieter than before.

I nodded.

He took a breath. "I'm sorry."

"For...?"

His eyes flashed with betrayal as if I had just gone back on my word.

I sighed. "You have to do it right or you might as well not do it at all—"

" _Fine_!" he said. "Fine... I'm sorry for... being an arsehole..."

Just saying the words 'I'm sorry' seemed like torture for him. I decided I couldn't be too picky about the rest.

"You're forgiven."

He looked skeptical. "So, we're good now?"

I hesitated. I didn't really know what he meant by 'good.' I wasn't going to tell my parents about what happened and I wasn't going to keep complaining about him being a rotten jerk (not to his face at least). But something in the way he spoke sounded like he meant something else, though I had no idea what it could be. "Y-yeah... sure."

He nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets... still standing on my porch.

"Um... is there anything else or...?"

He ran one hand through his hair, taking in my ragged appearance once more with that annoying aloof look of his. "Well... yes, actually..."

He trailed off, lost in his thoughts. I cleared my throat and he continued. "Well... there's this concert tonight."

I assumed he meant the secret concert that James was talking about to the pretty ice cream girls, though I had no idea what that had to do with me.

"Uh... okay... and?"

" _And_... I still sort of... need an excuse... to keep Mar— I mean... to not talk to my friends."

I frowned. He didn't really mean what I thought he did... did he? I decided to play dumb—it came naturally after all. "Okay... and?"

"Merlin, you're dense."

I started to shut the door again.

He huffed and leaned a hand on it. "I didn't mean it like that—I... I wanted to know if you'd go."

I hesitated. "Go... With you?"

"Yes," he nodded.

"To the concert?"

"Correct."

"So you can avoid Marls?"

"Corre—wait _what_?!"

I smiled seeing him so caught off guard. He finally looked like a normal teenager instead of a pretentious British robot boy. "That's why you needed me in the first place, right? To avoid her?"

He blinked and I assumed I was correct.

"Look," I started, trying to sound all chill, cool. _Trying_ being the operative word here. "I'd love to help you avoid your ex-girlfriend or whatever—"

"That's not—"

"—But there is no way on God's green earth that my parents are going to let me go to some sketchy concert with a boy I hardly know."

"She's not my ex-girlfriend," Sirius said, annoyed. I think he was focusing on the wrong part of what I'd said.

"Regardless... I can't help you, even if I wanted to..." _which I didn't._

 _"_ Parents love me," he said as if this was a perfect rebuttal to my argument.

"For your humility, no doubt..." I said under my breath, but of course, he was close enough to hear me.

He rolled his eyes, yet it was more playful than condescending. "You just leave the parents to me and be ready to go at six—"

"But I—"

"And..." he looked me up and down, smirking. "Wear something nice."

I scowled and opened my mouth to say something very _not_ nice, but he stalked off before I had a chance. "See you tonight, Higgs."

Flustered, I began to sputter, "Hey! Wait!" jogging into the front yard after him. "Black, I didn't—I never—I don't—!"

And that annoying boy had the audacity to laugh as he literally ran back to the Potter's house. "See you at six, Higgs!"

"UGH!!"


	10. Death Eater Cult Gathering

After sitting in my room for an embarrassing amount of time plotting all types of horrible scathing words to fling at Sirius the next time he showed his stupid smug face, I finally ventured down stairs.

The warm smell of spices floated up the ventilation and through the house. I smiled to myself as I lept down the stairs two at a time. Yes, I was still out of my mind with stress that Sirius was going to potentially kidnap me and make me go to some loud sketchy concert that evening, but even my brooding has its limits. There's nothing like mom's homemade gumbo to get your mind off things.

I heard Mom's elegant drawl echoing from the kitchen, and at first, I thought Dad had come home early, but then I realized she was on the phone.

"Yes... oh that sounds lovely!" Mom trilled, flicking her wand at the gumbo boiling on the stove, phone mashed against her ear with her shoulder. The twirly phone cord stretched out from its connection to the wall, crossing the length of the kitchen making it resemble a half formed spider web, or some sort of James Bond-esque obstacle course. While mom checked on the hush puppies, I plopped down at the kitchen table and began fiddling with a napkin. Matty taught me how to fold them into origami rabbits once, but anytime I tried to do them on my own, they just looked like roadkill.

Mom, whose multitasking skills knew no bounds, acknowledged me with a knowing sparkle in her eyes whilst she flicked her wand to pour rice in a pot. "Of course... Yes... yes, six o'clock, did you say?" Her eyes flashed to mine. I froze. "Sounds perfect—Mhm... Yep I'll make sure she's ready... Alrighty, you take care—you too, dear! Mhm... bu-bye."

She untangled herself with practiced elegance, hanging the plastic phone on the wall mount with a satisfying clunk then smiled like she knew all my secrets.

Which was a legitimate possibility.

My stomach swooped forebodingly.

She continued smiling at me, probably thinking that I'd say something eventually. Which, I did. "You're gumbo's boiling over, mom." I pointed behind her to the indeed, over bubbling pot.

"Drats!" She spun around, and flicked her wand at the gumbo pot like it was naughty child, then turned to me, less smily. "Paisley, you'll never guess who I just got off the phone with."

I shrugged and tried to look really interested in napkin origami. "Mrs. Hernandez?"

I wasn't looking, but I could feel her annoyed face. Mrs Hernandez was our old neighbor back in Texas. Besides the fact that she lived in a different time zone, she didn't like telephones—she was worried that the FBI was listening in on all her conversations.

"Mrs. Potter," she corrected.

Oh boy. I gulped, hands losing their grip on the napkin. When Sirius said he was good with parents I assumed that meant he'd swagger up to the front door and try to sweet talk my mom and dad into letting me go... The fact that he'd obviously convinced Mrs Potter to do his bidding was both brilliant and infuriating.

"Oh... cool..." I said dryly, playing dumb once again. "Sooo... When's dinner going to be ready?"

Mom didn't answer, but she did sit down at the table, taking the napkin roadkill rabbit out of my hands. "Paisley..." She sounded tired. As if _I_ made her tired. "Why didn't you tell me?"

I was pretty sure she was referring to the concert. Problem was, that on the off chance she _hadn't_ been chatting with Mrs. Potter about my going to this alleged concert, mentioning it would open a new can of worms...

So instead of talking myself into a pickle, I shrugged, not meeting her eyes.

She sighed, hands reaching out for mine. I wanted to pull away. But I didn't. "Paisy... I'm worried about you..."

Okay, first, she had absolutely, every reason to be worried about me. I knew this. Logically. I was a friendless, emotionally dis-regulated hermit who had moved to a brand new country and was in legitimate danger of flunking out of wizard school. It'd be weird if she _wasn't_ worried about me.

But have I mentioned how very _not_ logical my brain is?

Even though I _knew_ she was right in be worried, and I _knew_ she loved me, I couldn't help feeling upset. Not just upset. Angry. Frustrated.

She said she was worried but what my brain heard was " _You're a big mess. You make me tired. Why can't you be more like your sister? I didn't have to worry about your sister. You're sister never made me this tired."_

She still had my clammy hands in hers, so I squeezed my toes and tried to keep my mouth shut. My eyes focused on the roadkill napkin origami, my ears on the steady simmering of gumbo. If I talked... heaven only knew what would come out...

"Paisley... I really think you should go to the concert."

" _What_?"

Oops. Mouth rebelled.

She smiled a sad smile that squeezed at my chest and made me feel angry... then guilty for feeling angry... then... then just an undefinable _bad_... "You're alone too much," she began. I _almost_ defended myself. I almost told her about my stupid adventures with Sirius, but somehow managed to hit the brakes. "I know concerts and new people are... _difficult_ for you... but I really think getting out of your comfort zone will be good for you—and you could make friends... Mrs Potter said James's whole friend group is going... I think you should give it a chance, honey."

I wanted to explain to her that I'd already met some of James's friends and had zero desire to mingle with them. But I didn't. I wanted to tell her that they'd all known each other for years and years and that me tagging along would be awkward and I'd feel totally out of place. That I _would_ be out of place. The outsider. The other. But I didn't. I wanted to tell her that I didn't want to go because then I'd have to see Sirius, and worse, _talk_ to Sirius, and even worse, witness his annoying satisfaction knowing that his diabolical plan worked perfectly.

But I didn't.

Because I, Paisley Higgs, am a common coward.

I shrugged, still fighting to not yank my hand out of hers. "Yeah... okay... whatever..."

Mom eyed me for a moment. Maybe she was wondering if she heard me correctly. Maybe she thought I was being sarcastic. Perhaps she thought I'd been abducted by aliens... the world may never know. But after that moment of uncertainty, she squeezed my hand and smiled at me like she smiled at Clemy. I felt a warmth in my chest. A sick warmth I didn't feel like I deserved, but cherished nonetheless.

* * *

At precisely six o'clock someone rang the doorbell.

Unfortunately, I was not the one to open said door as I was hobbling in my room wearing one penny loafer, a wrinkled, yet otherwise cute dress, and eyeliner that made me look like a rabid raccoon on its way to becoming one of Davey Crockett's hats.

I'd hope it'd go without saying, but this was _not_ the look I was going for.

"Shoe... shoe... I need my shoe... God, I know you've got a billion and one things to do... but if you could point me in the direction of my shoe I'd _really_ appreciate it..." I muttered as I puttered through mountains of laundry—both clean and unclean. Sadly, God did not reveal my lost shoe.

Instead, my door flung open.

"Ugh! Don't _do_ that!" I cried out, hand over my racing heart.

Mom slipped in and shut the door, muffling Dad's laugh downstairs. "Sorry, honey, I just came to check on— _Paisley_! How are you not ready?!"

I ducked behind the far side of my bed, looking under my fallen comforter in hopes of finding my runaway shoe tangled within. No such luck.

"You've been up here for an hour and half and you've still got rollers in your hair!"

I _did_?

I did.

Whoops.

"I can't find my shoe..." I said, avoiding the subject. I yanked the hot rollers out of my hair (which hurt because I forgot they were pinned in) and tossed them towards a stack of unread books.

"I don't see how you can find _anything_ in this mess... tomorrow, you're cleaning this room— _without_ magic."

I wanted to tell her that 'without Magic' was the only way I _could_ clean my room, but it was right about this time that I found another important item... an item I didn't realize I'd lost.

" _There_ it is!" I said, biting my lip and reaching for the dusty coin purse under my bed.

"Well hurry up and put it on—he's waiting for you downstairs!"

I popped up and showed her the coin purse. "Oh... uh... still no shoe..."

She took one of those 'Dear Lord, give me the strength to help this hot mess child of mine' deep breaths that reaped havoc on sensitive souls such as mine, then calmly pulled out her wand and said, "accio."

The shoe thudded between the wall and my dresser a few times before flying across the room and into her expectant hand. She made magic look so easy.

I leapt over the bed and made quick work of jamming my foot into the loafer, holding the coin purse between my teeth. "Alright. Ready."

Mom was frowning.

"Not ready?" I said. I look around, patting my pockets (yes, my dress had pockets). I must have forgotten something. I _always_ forgot something. I'd think I was good to go then I'd get halfway to the door and realize I was wearing pajama pants or forgot to brush my teeth or left my wand or something...

Wait.

Where _was_ my wand?

"Paisley—what have you done to your beautiful eyes?" Mom asked.

I blinked.

I forgot my make up was awful. I had planned to fix the raccoon eyes, but I got sidetracked on my way to the make up remover when I tripped over the one shoe I _could_ find... then I had to find the other one and... well the make up sort of got put on the back burner.

Mom did another one of those tired sighs that made me equal parts angry and guilty—add the fact that I was _late_... and I was close to having a meltdown. I didn't know if I wanted to break something or cry or laugh at the fact that my life was a total joke.

Mom, oblivious as always, calmly assessed my pitiful state and flicked her wand in my general direction. With a few glittering spells (please don't ask me which ones she used, I don't remember) a pleasant magical breeze whooshed over my face and fluttered my dress like I was a less graceful Marilyn Monroe in the _Seven Year Itch_.

When the little whirlwind stilled Mom led me by the shoulders towards the mirror.

Past the scattered makeup paraphernalia and discarded hats that I'd tried on and ultimately found I looked ridiculous in, was a girl who sort of looked like me.

But prettier.

Fresher.

Less raccoon-ish.

I hope you don't think I'm vain when I say this... but I looked stinkin good. I touched my cheek and stroked my sleek soft hair and leaned closer... just to make sure it was really me. Yep. It was me... But something was off... The charmed makeup hid most of my freckles. But other than that, my lips were this mythical shade of red that didn't clash with my hair, my eyelashes weren't clumped anymore, and the eyeliner was still pretty heavy—not that I minded—but looked purposeful and even.

Also she unwrinkled my dress, which I didn't know made a difference, but apparently it did.

I looked like a movie star. No. Not a movie star. I looked like Clementine.

Which was what I always wanted, right?

"You fixed the eyeliner," I said. It sounded sort of flat, and maybe a tad ungrateful, considering she'd fixed _everything_...

Mom plucked a non-existent clump of lint off my shoulder and handed me my coin purse. "Time to go."

* * *

When I climbed down the stairs, I did my best to not think about my impending awkwardness. I tried to focus on the family pictures lining the walls, forever encasing my childhood and adolescent years in magical film—me and dad at my eighth birthday party, smiling blue frosting stained smiles—me and Matty chasing his dog, Puff, with a garden hose and a bucket of sudsy water (Puff didn't like bath time)—Clemy and I hula hooping on the beach when we went to Galveston, laughing so hard we couldn't breathe and Clemy peed herself (her one imperfection is a weak bladder).

Those were pictures where I belonged. Those were people, that even when they drove me crazy, even when I drove _them_ crazy, loved me. Who knew me better than anyone else. Who knew me better than anyone I would be hanging out with that night at least.

That was the reason making new friends was so hard for me—well _one_ of the reasons. People here didn't know me. I had to start from scratch letting them in on all the complicated inner workings of my mind and life while trying to figure them out as well... It was an exhausting process. Which is why I usually avoided it at all costs.

As I contemplated the massive undertaking it was to build a friendship, I caught a glimpse of my kidnapper—I mean escort... dang it escort sounds bad too... whatever—I saw the boy awaiting my arrival. Tall with dark hair wearing a white shirt and red bow tie.

Who wore bow ties?

James Potter did.

Yep, that's right. Mr. Terrible tutor was downstairs, alone, having a nice little conversation with dad. Not Sirius.

Now, I'm not saying I _wanted_ Sirius to be chatting it up with my dad—that would be a nightmare. But the fact that he wasn't there really bothered me. Wasn't this all his idea? He had orchestrated this whole plot to get me to go to a concert I didn't want to go to with people I didn't know nor wanted to know and he couldn't even bother to show up?

And he sent _James_ instead?

James. The boy who kidnapped me. Bailed on me. Who couldn't tutor to save his life. And had a stupid clock that didn't work...

I must have had a sour expression on my face when I walked down because James looked a little scared as he pushed his glasses up his nose. "Uh..."

"Paisley! There you are," Dad said. He was in a good mood. I think it had something to do with the gumbo we had for dinner. "Got everything?"

I nodded and tucked my hair behind my ear.

Dad raised an eyebrow. "You're sure?"

"Well now I'm not," I said.

Dad reached in his back pocket and presented me with my wand—Aka the most useless stick of magical wood to ever exist.

I sighed. Here came the lecture.

"What do I always tell you?" he began, as if James wasn't standing beside him in the open doorway looking painfully out of place.

"Never go anywhere without you wand," I mumbled.

"Exactly. And why—"

"Because it's your best line of defense in an emergency situation."

The words were drilled into me since before the age of eleven. He did the same thing with Clemy... but she never lost her wand.

Dad looked pleased with his good parenting. "It's better to use it and risk a citation, than to not use it and end up dead."

"Dad..." I groaned. "I'm going to a concert not a death eater cult gathering."

At least I hoped that was the case.

James snorted. I think it could count as a laugh. I considered this a win. Maybe there was hope for Potter yet.

Dad didn't look quite so amused. "I don't like that tone..."

"Sam... dear," mom said strolling to his side at my rescue. "It's late, they need to get going."

"Yeah, dad. Gotta get there in time for the human sacrifice—"

Mom gave me a withering look that plainly meant " _stop talking before_ you _end up as a human sacrifice."_

James cleared his throat. "Um... well... we'll be back later, Mr. Higgs! See you, Mrs. Higgs!"

And then we were ushered out the door.

James and I walked in silence the whole way from the sidewalk to the street lamp. It was kind of awkward but mostly because I felt so out of the loop on what was going on.

I wanted to ask him where we were going. Where all his other friends were. Where Sirius was... but instead what came out was, "We're not _actually_ going to a cult gathering, are we?"

James chuckled, ruffling the back of his hair. "No, no... it's just a concert." He fiddled with his bow tie. "But now that you mention it... the Stubby Boardman fan club at Hogwarts is a little cult-ish."

I snorted.

James peered over at me. "Sorry Sirius roped you into all this."

I know he meant well.

I knew it. James was an idiot and as imperceptive as boys came, but he had never been outright mean to me.

Yet, when he said those words, my brain heard something entirely different. It got the impression that he didn't want me there. That the only reason I got the invite was because Sirius was an idiot and invited me. Which... was probably true. If Sirius didn't need a buffer between him and Marls I would never have been on their radar. No one would have cared if I'd stayed home eating bad ice cream watching Doctor Who reruns.

Which was what I wanted, right?

To be left alone?

So why did it make me feel so... undefinably bad to think they wouldn't have invited me?

I tried to shove those bad feelings away, and asked the question that was at the top of my mind. "Where _is_ Sirius?"

James frowned. "His parents wanted him home for dinner... He's going to meet us there." James kept walking at a brisk pace through the chilly summer air as an owl hooted from its perch atop a lamppost. This time of year in Texas it would have been at least 90 degrees (Fahrenheit) and thick with humidity and cicada symphonies. I regretted forgetting a jacket.

"And where is _there_ , exactly?" I asked.

"London," he answered easily. Ugh. Not again.

We walked across the paved road toward a small wooded park. Just the sort of place someone could get murdered and no one would find their body for weeks, and only after an elderly woman walking her kneazles stumbled upon it. So, a cheery place.

"It's got to be here somewh—ah! There we go!" He smiled down at a broken umbrella expectantly, then checked his watch. "Cutting it close..." he muttered. "Alright, grab on—you're good with Portkey's right?"

I grabbed the umbrella handle as ordered. "Would it make a difference if I wasn't?"

He didn't seem to have a response for that, but as it turned out, we _were_ cutting it quite close. The portkey pulled us away, bending our atoms though space and time, spinning us so fast I should have been ripped to pieces, before dumping us onto a loud, dirty, dank, London street amidst a long line of cultish teenagers.

Groovy.


	11. Let’s Find the Loo

Let me tell you, whatever street James had plopped us down in _stunk_. Literally. It smelled like cat pee and mold, but even I had to admit it had a certain charm to it. Once you got past the fact that you could probably contract some sort of infectious disease by just standing too close to a bench... it was almost, dare I say it, exciting.

We approached the long line (or queue, as James called it) of fan boys and girls, and approached a rather tall boy who reminded me of Matty.

He didn't _actually_ look like Matty apart from being tall and having the same messy, floppy hair situation that had become Matty's signature look. For one, he looked highly uncomfortable in the crowd. If left alone, Matty would have started a conversation with some random stranger by this point, chatting about fuzzy Scottish cows or something. This fellow looked like he would have rather been devoured by sewer rats.

"Remus!" James called, waving down the almost-Matty.

Remus... why was that name familiar?

Remus turned on his heel so quick he looked like he made himself motion-sick. Like he was going to throw up all over the girl in the leopard print jumpsuit standing directly in front of him. The girl, thankfully, was oblivious to this. The poor guy looked like he'd had a tousle with a few angry animals in his life time, judging by the jagged and faded scars on his face. No need to involve Ms leopard and her blood red talons in the equation. 

We strolled into the line where Remus was standing. The people behind us looked a little peeved but I don't think James even noticed.

"He's late," Remus said to James, acting as if I wasn't there.

James rolled his eyes and dug through his jacket. "He's always late, Rem. Relax."

Remus didn't look 'Relaxed'. Quite the opposite, really.

James frowned as he dug through his pockets, then patted his breast pocket and began digging through them as well. "You've met Higgs, right?"

"Erm... actually, I don't believe we've been introduced," almost-Matty said, assuming the handshake position. "Remus Lupin."

That's when it clicked. Remus! The planner!

Remus was still holding out his hand for a handshake—and this time I aced the social interaction with a text book perfect handshake. Dad would have been so proud. "Paisley," I said.

His eyes lit up flashing down past my face then back up to my eyes. The corner of his mouth pulled up into a sort of half-smile. "Paisley? Like your dress?"

"Uh..." My face flushed and he let go of my hand.

I'd worn a paisley print dress... of course. After all, nothing says 'concert' like a bunch of amoeba-like patterns. I somehow forgot that it was actually my _name_.

I ran my hand through my hair then fiddled with the ends—it would probably ruin the look Mom gave me, but I was practically buzzing with anxious energy and needed to funnel it into movement somehow.

Beside me, James let out a loud sigh, muttering 'Thank Merlin' under his breath whilst tucking a few slips of paper back into his pocket.

"Are the girls here?" James asked Remus. "I need to give them their tickets."

Remus nodded his head, indicating behind them. "They're round the corner—Alice didn't want to skip the queue."

"Course she didn't..." James rolled his eyes, smiling as he ruffled the back of his hair. "Well come on, Higgs—you've got to meet them at some point."

I blinked as James reached for my wrist once more.

He quickly told Remus he'd be right back, not noticing the glare of the girl we'd skipped in line, then charged down the sidewalk.

James walked at a brisk pace, rounded the corner and almost immediately, I spied the two girls from the ice cream shop. My face flushed in fresh embarrassment. I'd made such an idiot out of myself... and now James was going to make me _interact_ with them?

"Alice! I heard your moral fiber was lurking back here!" James chuckled as we approached.

A girl with really long, straight, brown hair, parted directly down the middle, playfully scowled at him and pushed his arm like I would have done with Matty. "Shut it."

"Violent as you are principled," he teased. "Where's Frank?"

Alice blushed faintly.

A blonde girl spoke next—the blonde girl from the ice cream shop... the infamous Marls. "Davey's brother insisted on _driving_ them," she drawled.

James's eyebrows went up. "Oh... well hopefully they make it in one piece—"

Alice whacked him again and James laughed.

It was kind of strange but fascinating observing they're little world... obviously they were all much more popular than I ever was in school, but the way they interacted wasn't much different than how I was with Matty.

But up until this point, _observing_ was all I had an opportunity to do. James was so caught up trying to annoy Alice and make snarky comebacks with Marls that he had forgotten to introduce me. I didn't become an active participant until the red headed girl, who had remained just as quiet as I had, cleared her throat and looked right at me.

She flashed a quick scowl to James who was re-telling some boisterous story about Alice trying to resuscitate a squirrel, then walked towards me. "Hi, I'm Lily," she smiled. "I remember you from the Ice Cream Parlor—It's Paisley, right?"

"Um... yeah..."

"James is tutoring you, yeah?"

Ah, so Potter had notified _everyone_ of my idiocy? How lovely.

"I think tutoring is a generous term..." I said without thinking. Her face darkened and I immediately regretted saying anything. He was her friend and here I was bad mouthing him once again and—

"He's not taking it seriously, is he?" Lily said, unsurprised and a little irritated judging by the way her bottle green eyes narrowed. "Ugh... typical Potter..."

Woah... someone was not a fan...

"Oh, no—I just mean— it was only the first—"

James turned at the mention of his name, grinning. "Oh, Evans... Didn't see you there!"

Lily rolled her eyes. "Surprised you can see anything past that gigantic ego."

James smirked, clearly pleased she was speaking to him despite her censure. "I see you've met Higgs—"

"Yes, _Paisley_ and I were just getting acquainted, no thanks to you."

Even though the conversation was now about me, I couldn't stop watching them go back and forth... it reminded me of the table tennis tournaments the Wampus boys would hold when it rained at school.

James threw an arm around my shoulders, still smirking lazily. I was too surprised to do much than stand there awkwardly.

"Did she tell you she's from America?"

"Texas," I blurted out.

They all looked at me... well, Marls sort of looked past me, but it was in my general direction.

In hindsight, it might have been more pertinent to inform them that I was impulsive and socially awkward, not which state I formerly resided in.

"Fascinating," Marls sighed, rolling her eyes. "Potter, do you have the tickets or are we expected to sneak in again?"

James removed his arms in a huff, muttering something about "it was only one time" as he patted down his pockets.

With a flourish, he presented the slips of paper from his breast pocket one by one to the three girls. "One for you, one for you—and one for _you_ , dear Evans."

He winked at Lily. She snatched the ticket from his hands, refusing to make eye contact with him. It was nice to know I wasn't the only girl he managed to fluster.

I cleared my throat. "Uh... James?" I said quietly as the other girls began to talk amongst themselves about who they thought the opening act would be.

He drug his eyes away from Lily. "Hmm?"

"Do you have my ticket or do I need to go buy one?"

He looked at me, properly this time, brows scrunched together. "What? Don't be ridiculous—Sirius is bringing it."

My stomach flipped for some reason. Probably nerves. I had almost forgotten about Sirius. "Oh... and what do I do if he decides not to show?"

James smirked and leaned closer. "Then I suppose we'll have to sneak you in." He winked and nudged me with his arm, so I knew he was kidding... or at least, I hoped he was... but I still worried. Sirius was the whole reason I was there... And he couldn't even be bothered to show up on time?

"You should really get back to Remus," Lily said, eyeing us suspiciously. "He didn't look like he felt very well when we saw him earlier..."

James scratched the back of his head then nodded. He told them that he'd catch up with them when we went in—promising (despite their protests) that he'd hex anyone that had the audacity to mess with them.

"Don't worry," Marls giggled. "I'm sure Frank will be more than willing to defend Alice's honor—"

Alice whacked her, face flushing once again. "That's not funny!"

James laughed as we walk back.

I ran a hand through my hair, racking my brain, trying to think of small talk and coming up empty. I tried to think. What would Matty ask about? School. He'd talk about school.

"Um... are—are the girls all in the same house as you—at school, I mean?"

He looked down at me and scratched the back of his neck, half-smiling. "Alice and them? Yeah—they're all Gryffindors. Most of my friends are Gryffindors. Well—Davey and his sister Maisie are Hufflepuffs—and Benji's a Ravenclaw—but other then that. Mostly Gryffindor."

I fiddled with my fingers nodding. "And which one did you think I'd be in?"

He chuckled. "Hufflepuff."

"And is that good?"

He shrugged. " _I_ think so. Puffs are..."

"Nice?" I guessed.

"I mean... yeah... but they're more... mellow."

I couldn't help but laugh, my hand flying over my mouth in surprise.

James laughed too, but confused. "What's so funny?"

"I don't think anyone has ever described me as " _mellow_ "!" I laughed again. Weird? Yes. Spacey? Sure. But _mellow_?

James looked a little embarrassed, but covered it well. "Fine, then how _would_ you describe yourself?"

"Not as _mellow_ —thats for sure!" I laughed again. "I screamed at a kid during one of my final exams."

"No way," he laughed. Eyes wide. "Why?!"

I blushed. "He—well he kept tapping his foot."

"And so you _screamed_ at him..." James clarified, not holding back his amusement.

"It—well it was really annoying—I couldn't concentrate!" I defended, heart rate speeding up. I was only trying to prove I wasn't 'mellow'... I didn't really want to get into the fact that I was a total loon... but the words just kept coming out of my mouth. "And it's always so _loud_ in those exams—I can't even hear myself think... and then he kept tapping and... and I just couldn't take it anymore."

When I was done, James hummed.

"What?"

James glanced down, the lights from the Marquee sign at the front of the concert hall flashing in his glasses. "Well it's just something you said... about the exam being too 'loud'..."

I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. "I know it's weird—"

"No," he said, cutting me off. "It's—well it's what Sirius always says."

My first thought was—well, I don't really _know_ what my first thought was. I was only half-listening—the other part of my brain was focused on footsteps approaching from behind. I was about to scoot out of the way when I heard—"What do I always say?"

My breath caught in my throat as Sirius brushed past my shoulder and joined the conversation, looking _far_ too entertained.

He wore jeans, a t-shirt and a leather jacket, which I personally thought was trying too hard to look all 'rebellious' but I couldn't deny that it fit him well. But there he stood, all cocky and smirky and annoying, bantering back with James (I don't really remember what they said but I gathered that it was mildly insulting for the sake of humor) until his eyes landed on me. He looked at me and suddenly his face changed to something I couldn't quite read. I hardly noticed James giving his friend a pat on the back before catching up to Remus.

A smelly breeze blew past, but it didn't mess up my hair—whatever spells Mom used were wind-proof. I crossed my arms over my chest and frowned—partially because I was cold, but also because I was annoyed.

"You're late."

He took a slow step towards me. "Family stuff."

"That's what James said."

He didn't reply which I found irritating. After what happened that afternoon, I knew an apology was out of the question, but he could at least give me a better excuse than 'family stuff'. But he didn't. He just looked at me... blue grey eyes roving up and down... I couldn't help but blush and look away.

His expression was unreadable, but my mind didn't have any trouble filling in the gaps. I thought I looked okay—better than okay—when I was home... but compared to seeing the other girls they were friends with I felt average at best. All I could think about was how awkward I felt... how he must have been able to sense how awkward I felt and that it would cancel out any redeeming qualities I possessed.

"What did you do to your face?"

My head snapped toward him. "Excuse me?"

He took a step closer... then another... then another... until he was very much in my personal space, scrutinizing my scowling face... He was close enough that his cologne replaced the spell of cat pee and mold. I didn't move, though I don't think I could have even if I wanted to.

"You did something to your face," he said, a crease forming between his brows—as if this bothered him.

"Uh... well I'm wearing make up," I said.

The crease intensified and his hand moved, but then he shoved it in his pocket.

"Is there something wrong?" I asked, unsure why he was being so weird.

His eyes met mine. "You erased your freckles."

That was the last thing I ever expected him to say. I couldn't help but let out an awkward half-laugh. " _What_?"

"You had freckles before and now you don't."

"You told me to look nice."

"Your freckles _were_ nice," he stated.

I rolled my eyes, my un-freckled face burning beneath the make up. "Yeah, well... a lot of people wouldn't agree with you."

"Yeah, well... Fuck them."

I had no idea how to respond to that, but my un-freckled face spoke for me.

"You think I'm being an arsehole again..." he stated more than asked. "It was the cursing, wasn't it?"

Yes, it was. But I didn't want to say that. So I shrugged.

He ran a hand through his hair and looked me up and down once more... and once again he made an odd face.

"What _now_?" I sighed. "If it's about the dress being punny it wasn't intentional—"

"How are you not cold?" he asked.

"What?"

"You're not wearing any sleeves... how are you not freezing right now? It's thirteen degrees out."

At first I thought he was making a joke—I mean I _was_ cold—but it wasn't below freezing. But then I remembered... Celsius. Stinking Celsius.

"I-I forgot my sweater..." I told him.

"And James wouldn't take you back to get it?"

"I didn't ask—I was already running late and—"

"You shouldn't have _had_ to ask." His brows scrunched together and he muttered, " _Specky, unobservant, little wanker_ ," under his breath as he glanced towards the line. Then he took off his jacket.

Stupid as I was, even I knew where this was going.

"Sirius, you really don't have to—"

He held the jacket up to me. "Arms."

There was a brief staring match... which I might have won if a breeze hadn't blustered through at that exact moment making me shiver.

With a sigh of defeat I lifted my arms and let him put the stupid leather jacket on me. Thing is, Sirius was a much larger human being than me. Taller. Broader. And apparently his arms were quite a bit longer. My hands were completely hidden inside the sleeves and I was drowning in rebellious black leather as well as the heavenly scent of boy and sandalwood.

I flopped my arms, pouting. "I look silly."

Sirius eyed me once more and smirked, eyes glinting in mischief. "But are you cold?"

I noticed that he never contradicted the fact that I did, in fact, look ridiculous. "No," I groaned.

"Oi! Padfoot!" James called from behind us. "Queues moving!"

Again with the weird nicknames. As we made our way to the line, I wondered what they were all about. Of course I had nicknames as well but they were mostly variations of my own name—their names seemingly came out of no where. Still musing about what inside jokes could have produced such odd terms of endearment, we entered the line.

I did my best to ignore the lady behind James giving us a stink-eyed glare... as well as the odd expression on Remus's face.

It was probably the jacket.

I looked completely ridiculous.

"My my, Higgs!" James chuckled. "Quite the look you've got going there!"

I blushed.

"Someone's jealous..." Remus smirked.

"Damn right I'm jealous!" James laughed and even Sirius cracked a smile.

The line moved forward and Remus asked Sirius how dinner went.

Sirius's smile faded and he shrugged, refusing to answer. "Are the others here?" he asked instead.

"Down the queue—" James explained. "Well the girls were— Davey's brother is driving the rest."

Sirius ran a hand through his hair. "Merlin, that's bound to end well..." he said with a chuckle. "Suppose Pete didn't want to sneak out?"

We stepped forward again. James shook his head. "I even offered to create a diversion—"

"You offered to set fire to the abandoned muggle house down the road—" Remus corrected.

Okay, so I had gathered by this point that James and his friends held a certain disregard for the rules—but offering to commit _arson_? Just so their friend could sneak out to go to some lame Stubby Boardman concert?! That was downright criminal.

"You _what_?!" I yelped.

They all looked at me as if they just remembered I was there.

The grumpy lady behind us cleared her throat and we moved forward.

James ruffled the back of his hair. "I wouldn't have _actually_ set fire to the place—just charmed it to _look_ like it was on fire—"

"You mean you would have performed underage magic just to sneak your friend out to a concert?" I asked.

James laughed awkwardly. "Merlin, Higgs—you make me sound like a delinquent."

"You made _yourself_ sound like a delinquent," I snapped.

Remus looked amused, Sirius snorted.

I rounded to face Sirius, irritated. "What?"

"Nothing," he said, failing to hide a smirk. I narrowed my eyes at him... his smirk got smirkier. "Anyone ever told you that your accent gets stronger when you're cross?"

If the annoying lady behind us hadn't cleared her throat again I might have hit him. Not hard, just a good thwack so he'd stop being such an a-word. As it was, I crossed my arms over my chest (which looked far less threatening given the oversized jacket) and we shuffled forward again, nearly to the front by this point.

A rather large wizard with a big beard stood at the entrance, wand flicking over the tickets before grunting and letting the concert folks in.

Then we were next. Remus pulled his own ticket out of his pocket, handing it to the man.

The man cast a shimmering spell on the paper and handed it back before grunting, "Next."

James strutted up, giving the man his ticket, grinning whilst pushing his glasses up his nose with his other hand.

The security wizard narrowed his eyes. " _You_ , again..."

"I assure you everything is on the up and up this time around, my good sir," James smiled. "My days of concert crashing are behind me."

The wizard didn't look convinced. He waved his wand over the ticket... casting the spell... three times. James grinned and he simply grunted for him to enter.

I was next.

"Ticket?"

I blinked at the man—his beard was so hairy it covered half of his face.

"No ticket, no entry."

He didn't look happy. He looked at me the same way he looked at James—like I was trying to sneak in and pull a fast one on him. My heart raced and I tried to stammer out some sort of pathetic response when Sirius appeared at my side.

The security wizard moved his glare to him.

Sirius's hand moved town to my side and at first, I thought he was trying to hold my hand. Which was weird, partially because this was hardly the time for hand holding and... well it was Sirius.

But then I felt his hand go into the jacket pocket. He pulled out two tickets, presenting them to the man without a word.

The wizard, much like with James, scanned the tickets with his wand several times, but eventually let us through.

We walked into the venue and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

Sirius's arm stretched over my shoulders, thereby pulling me into the warmth at his side. His hand landed on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze, as he leaned closer to my ear and said in hushed tones. "Relax, Higgs. This is supposed to be fun."

He was so close. So very much in my personal space. I should have been mad... but I found it was sort of nice... And when he moved his hand and arm I was sort of... disappointed.

"—Coat check—"

I turned, confused. He was speaking to me and I didn't hear him. Spacey Paisley...

Sirius rolled his eyes. "It's going to get warm in there—do you really want to keep wearing that thing?"

Behind him, a wizard in a booth I just noticed, flicked his wand and sent a cloak wizzing to an enchanted, revolving rack of coats.

"Oh..." I started to take off the leather jacket, but Sirius beat me to it, helping me out of it and handing it to the man. It was a little odd, but I just figured he wanted to keep the jacket safe—it seemed rather expensive.

After receiving a small slip of paper for the coat, we walked through a windowless hallway ahead of us that led to a grimy set of double doors. James and Remus were no where in sight and must have gone ahead of us. I walked a little quicker, anxious to find them.

But Sirius caught my hand.

It was only a moment, a brief moment, just long enough to pull me over to the side of the hall, out of the way of the other people walking up behind us. But my stomach flipped uncomfortably, the skin burning where his fingers had brushed past.

"Higgs, we need to talk..." he said quietly. "about tonight..."

My heart raced and I was thankful that I had gotten rid of the jacket because it was really hot. What was there to talk about? And why was he talking so softly?

"Alright..." I said, waiting for him to continue.

His eyes met mine, brows furrowed, darting between my eyes then dipping down lower on my face. I assumed he was still disgruntled about the freckles thing, but it seemed different... He took a breath and then—

"Sirius!" a girl squealed.

Sirius looked like he'd been hit in the head with a frying pan, blinking as he turned to face the sound of his own name.

It was Marls. She was flanked on either side by Alice and Lily, and she was smiling... but her eyes moved between me and Sirius... as if it confused her.

Sirius didn't say anything, nor did he move away from me.

"I didn't know you were coming—why didn't you come say hi with James?" she said, her eyes flickering over to me, then back to him.

"I was running late," he said.

Running late? I wondered why he hadn't just told her he had to eat dinner with his family...

Her smile never faltered, yet it didn't quite reach her eyes.

Alice cleared her throat, eyeing me curiously. "I didn't know you met Paisley."

"We—" I began, unsure of what I was going to say.

"They met when we got ice cream this afternoon—" Lily said.

Alice made an odd expression, but I didn't know what it meant.

"Well, _actually_ —" I began, this time I knew what I was going to say. I was going to explain that we actually met at dinner over a week ago.

"Concerts set to start soon, Sirius," Marls said, voice a bit colder. "We should head in."

"You can go ahead, I've got something I need to take care of first."

Lily looked concerned... not for Marls's sake, but for mine. "We can wait for you—I'm sure Potter will be fine without us for a little while longer."

She was speaking to Sirius, but I had the feeling her words were intended for me. Which was weird. I got the impression that she thought I'd been cornered into an unwanted conversation and was trying to give me an out. But while I had been cornered... I didn't necessarily want to leave, curious what Sirius wanted to talk about.

"Thanks, but that's alright—shouldn't take too long," he said to Lily.

Lily still seemed apprehensive despite her smile. "Alright—Paisley, you can come with us if you want."

Sirius leaned a little closer and opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it. "I'm good, but thanks."

Marls looked mildly livid, eyes darting between Sirius and I.

Alice hooked her arm in Marls's. "Okay! See you in there!" she smiled. "Let's go, Marley."

With one last awkward round of smiles they walked off.

Sirius let out a breath. He was standing so close that the warm minty gust caused the hairs around my face flutter and tickle my skin. I gave a little shiver.

He noticed. "Cold?"

"Huh? Oh... no—no, I'm good."

He didn't look convinced, studying me for some hidden meaning.

I cleared my throat. "I-I can see why you're trying to avoid her..." I said, noticing my voice was softer. For some reason speaking at a normal volume would have felt like screaming. "Marls is scary."

Sirius let out a hoarse barking laugh, leaning his shoulder against the wall, effortlessly. "I think you could give her a run for her money..."

I didn't know what that meant or where it came from... but it felt like it should have been a complement. I looked away, fiddling with the ends of my hair. "Erm... what did you want to talk about?"

Sirius paused, I heard some people laughing as a group passed by us and walked into the doors. The sound of guitar tuning strummed through before the door shut.

"There's going to be a lot of people here tonight," he said.

Duh, it was a concert. "Okay...?"

His eyes did that thing were they looked disappointed at my make up. "And I think we need a game plan in case something happens."

I suddenly remembered my joke about this being a death eater cult gathering. "What do you mean?"

"Well," he shuffled awkwardly. "I think we should come up with a... a meeting spot in case we get separated."

Oh. That made more sense. Very logical.

"Oh, well... alright. How about here?"

"I was thinking by the loo."

"First, gross," I said prompting him to laugh. I ignored his smile and the way it made me smile and moved to my second point. "Second, I don't know where the bathroom is."

"Then I shall give you a tour," he said, winking.

"Of the _bathroom_?" I laughed, my hand moving without my consent to his chest, attempting to push him away. "You're so weird."

He didn't refute this fact, but he did laugh, hand capturing mine like a Venus fly trap. He acted like it wasn't a big deal. As if his skin wasn't burning against mine. As if his thumb lightly brushing back and forth against the back of my hand was the most natural thing in the world. He probably held girls hands all the time. It probably didn't mean anything. It probably wasn't a big deal to him.

"I think you're the first girl to ever call me _weird_ ," he chuckled.

"First one to say it to your face maybe," I said... giggling. Ugh. Giggling? I wanted to cringe. I was probably making a fool out of myself.

He barked another laugh then sort of just looked at me, not critically like before. More like Matty when he was reading his divination text book—baffled, yet amused. Then, in an instant, his face dropped along with his grip on my hand.

He straightened up, backed away a little, and cleared his throat, looking at the door. "We should go in."

I was confused. He was almost pleasant company there for a moment... what happened? Had I done something wrong? It was probably the giggling...

"Oh... right... okay..." I stammered. I walked toward the door ahead of him, trying to hide the fact that I was sort of disappointed he stopped holding my hand, both from him and myself.

It wasn't a big deal, I told myself. He was popular, he probably did this with everyone, I needed to stop thinking it meant something when it didn't. We hardly knew each other. I was simply there to keep Marls away. He was just being nice.

Distracted by my inner monologue, I reached for the double doors, but Sirius slipped in ahead of me, holding it open.

I smiled awkwardly as a thanks then stepped into the loud, dimly lit concert hall. There were a _lot_ of people, all milling about, some laughing loudly—a bunch of dark blobs in an odd smoky haze.

A warm hand rested gently on the small of my back and Sirius appeared at my side. "Let's find the loo, yeah?"

He was weird. _So_ weird. Yet I found that I didn't much mind.


	12. Chapter 12- Concerts Suck

Concerts suck.

There, I said it.

I know. I _know_ that teenagers, and people in general, are supposed to enjoy concerts. Logically, it sounds like a nice time. Semi-entertaining music, people watching, limited opportunities for conversation. What more could someone ask for?

But the deafening buzzing bass shook the room, vibrations rattling down to my internal organs—flashing lights blinding from the stage—people _everywhere_ —sweaty limbs and dangerous elbows all aflail—body heat of strangers pressed in on me... suffocating me in a swirl of body oder, dizzying cologne, and cigarettes smoke.

It was too loud. Too crowded. Too much.

But it seemed, per usual, I was the only one bothered by any of this. Everyone around me was blissfully happy. Grinning and dancing and enjoying their youth in a way I literally could not comprehend.

Things had really hit their groove after Sirius and I scouted out the bathroom (yes, he really did drag me all the way to that stinky corner of the venue. And yes, the putrid stench _will_ haunt me until my dying breath.) Sirius eventually wandered over to James's side, the two of them resembling brothers in the poor lighting. They were friends and given Sirius's erratic behavior, I shouldn't have expected him to stick around... but it still sort of hurt my feelings that he didn't want to hang out with me... Not that I'd ever give him the satisfaction of knowing that. 

The second group arrived by car just after we returned. I couldn't remember all their names, but they were _definitely_ the life of the party (as made evident by their prolific use of fist pumping), eagerly mingling with the existing group.

I wanted to be like them.

I wanted to be like Alice who confidently screamed the wrong lyrics to every song off key. I wanted to be like Lily who laughed her head off, shaking her hips to the beat of the music, making up dance moves as she did so. I wanted to be like James (I know, weird) and possess the confidence to stand in the middle of the crowd as if the concert was in his own living room. Even Remus, who I'd initially labeled as an introvert, seemed to be having a good time, swaying to the music and bobbing his head to the drum beat.

I just wanted to be normal— _feel_ normal, for once in my sad, overdramatic, angsty life.

But that wasn't going to happen. The best I could hope for was to _pretend_ I was normal. To _pretend_ that I was having fun, even though every cell in my body was screaming to run out of the building, through the streets of London and crawl back to safety of my quiet bedroom.

So, I embraced my inner Matty and forced a smile, flinching anytime someone trespassed too far into my personal space, praying it would all be over soon.

And if I'm being honest, this plan sort of worked for a while. I was so focused on blending in and not having a nervous breakdown that I _almost_ had a good time... during the first act, that is.

The second opening act was... unique. I pride myself on having a pretty broad musical taste, but there's only so many out-of-tune rock-clarinet solo's one can listen to without getting a headache. And I wasn't the only one less than impressed. Remus stopped swaying, Sirius disappeared entirely, and at my left, two boys from the second group were having a heated argument about the difference between crocodiles and alligators.

A hand gripped around my arm. I flinched. "Paisley!" A familiar voice shouted in my ear.

I turned and saw Alice's kind round face. "We're going to the toilet!" she said loudly.

"Oh..." I didn't understand why she was telling me this. Maybe she needed directions? "It's just that way—over by the—"

She shook her head with a laugh. "We _know_ where the toilet is!"

A rather enthusiastic organ player began her solo on stage.

"Come on!" She tugged my arm and I almost tripped trying to keep pace with her through the crowd.

"Wait—but I don't need to go to the bathroom—"

" _What_?" she hollered over her shoulder.

"I said I don't need to use the—"

A harmonica began blaring, completely off key.

"I can't hear you!" she said, elbowing her way past a couple of boys mid-make out session. "Tell me when we get there."

Alice weaved us through the crowd and when we reached the foul smelling bathroom I saw that we were not alone.

"There you are!" said Lily pausing her work on fluffing her hair in front of the dinky mirrors. "We were afraid that racket gave you brain-damage."

"Oh shove off," Alice rolled her eyes and waved Lily off with a rude hand-gesture, shutting the other bathroom stall behind her. "And for the record, if they could just stay on key, I think they might be decent."

The stall next to her opened and Marlene stepped out, snorting a laugh. "A decent means for _torture_ , maybe." As she walked to the sink her eyes landed on me. Her pretty face soured, as if _I_ was the true source of the bathroom's stench. A real confidence booster.

"I'm really glad you could come out tonight, Paisley," Lily said kindly, handing off some red lipstick to Marlene. "I know it sucks now, but it'll get better. Stubby's shows are always like this."

"Benji says he picks bad opening acts to make himself sound better," Alice announced before flushing and rejoing the group.

"The first band wasn't so bad," I said, shrugging. I felt so out of place... I didn't need to use the restroom. Why did Alice insist on taking me? I'd take the horrible music over small talk any day.

"Ha!" Marlene was looking at herself in the mirror. "They were absolute _shite._ Why do you think all the boys ran off?"

Lily rolled her eyes. "They didn't _all_ run off. Only Sirius and knowing him, he's probably—" Lily stopped herself and shot a look in my direction. "He's probably out smoking."

Alice's head tilted to the side. "I thought he quit?"

"He quit _cigarettes."_ Marlene handed the red lipstick off to Alice. "Not the other stuff. But I saw him talking with Davey when they got here— more likely he's getting drunk."

"This early?" Alice asked incredulously.

"Like I said, the music is _shite_. Honestly, wish I could join him."

I thought about mentioning that they were both below the drinking age, but I'd somehow lost the ability to speak. I fidgeted with the ends of my hair.

"No way," said Alice uncapping the lipstick. "Even _he_ wouldn't get sloshed this early. Not with the party later."

_Party_?

"Exactly," Lily said quickly. "Remus was looking ill, they probably went out for some fresh air."

"Well, I don't know where they'd find it," I blurted out. "Outside smelled like cat pee and mold."

Alice laughed loudly, surprising even herself. "Oh shite— Oh Merlin's bollocks—" A thick red line of lipstick streaked across her face. "Don't laugh at me, McKinnon!"

Marls had a hand over her mouth, but it did little to hide her guffaw. "You look like—a circus clown—did your make-up!" she cackled.

"A _blind_ circus clown," I giggled, again doing that thing where I think and talk at the exact same time.

Marlene laughed louder and even Lily was snorting to hide her giggles.

For a moment I worried I'd offended Alice. She stared at herself in the mirror but after a moment her lips quirked. "Frank's afraid of clowns. Maybe I should keep it and see what happens..."

Lily and Marlene wheezed even harder and I couldn't help but join in. Lily managed to reign in her amusement enough to fetch some paper towels. "Let's not traumatize the poor lad, Alice," she smiled, trying to scrub the lipstick away.

As she worked to set Alice's face right, the three of them began chattering away about other traumatizing experiences involving Frank, whom I'd gathered was either Alice's crush or a really awkward boyfriend. But unlike before, they weren't just talking _near_ me, they'd give me some background on stories here and there. "Frank's mother is horrible," Marlene explained in the middle of a tale where Frank had managed to turn his hand into a vultures snapping head his second year. "We call her 'the vulture' because of this ridiculous hat she always wears—"

"And how she picks people apart..." Alice grumbled.

Lily paused her work of scrubbing. Only a faded pink line remained. "She'll come around, Alice. I promise."

"Alice thinks Frank's Mum hates her," Marlene explained again.

"She _does_ hate me!"

I didn't see how anyone could hate Alice. She was one of the kindest people I'd met since moving to England.

Lily quickly assured her that 'the Vulture' hated everyone and to not take it personally, then tactfully changed the subject. "So, Paisley, you're coming to the party later, right?"

My eyes went from her face to Marls's then finally to my own reflection. "I um... I didn't..."

"Potter forgot to invite you, didn't he?" Marls sighed. I expected her to scoff or maybe sneer, but she just looked sort of sorry for me.

"Typical," Lily muttered, scrubbing poor Alice's face more vigorously. "Well, you can go with us."

"I..." I watched my cheeks flush pink beneath the heaps of makeup. I didn't know what to say. Should I tell them that _Sirius_ had invited me, not James, or that I was even more miserably awkward at parties than I was at concerts. But they'd have to know I was awkward by now... and _still_ they invited me. _Me_. Painfully awkward me. No one _ever_ invited me to parties in America, unless we're counting the ones for Matty's birthdays and the ones Mrs. Hernandez used to randomly throw for her llamas.

I was tempted to convince myself it was only out of pity but then Alice added, "Oh my god, you _have_ to go with us. It's going to be awesome—and we can introduce you to all our other friends! She'd get along great with Dorcas, don't you think, Marls?"

Marls turned to work on her hair even though it was perfect. "Dorcas gets along great with everyone." 

"Well I—"

The bathroom door swung open and a tough looking girl with cropped hair, chains for a necklace, and buttons all over her second-hand army jacket walked in. "Is one of you Paisley?" she asked.

All eyes landed on me. My heart raced in panic. "Uh y-yeah," I stammered. "I'm Paisley."

"There's a stalker outside for you," she said.

"A _stalker_?" Alice said.

"Did they give you a name?" Lily asked the girl at the same time Marlene asked, "What'd they look like?"

"No name. Said you'd be expecting him. Dark hair, bit of a dandy— gives off an off-brand Stubby vibe. I can hex him for you, if you want."

"No!" I yelped. "No, I know him. But thanks."

"He looked annoying. You sure you don't want me to hex him?" she asked.

I started toward the door. "I'm sure. But you'll be the first person I find if I happen to change my mind." I glanced back at Lily, Marlene, and Alice. "I'll see y'all in a bit!"

The punk rocker girl had already wandered off to the stall, but Marlene walked up and touched my arm as I was reaching for the door. "Hey, Potter's a git for not inviting you," she said quietly. "You really should come with us to the party... if you want."

"I'm not really a party person," I admitted, thrown off by her sudden kindness. "But I'll think about it."

Marlene nodded and let me go. Before the door shut behind me, she shouted, "And tell Potter if he tries to pull any dodgy stalkery shite, I'll hex his balls off personally!"

I flushed, but part of me couldn't help but smile at her ferocity.

I wondered if she'd be that protective if she knew the real identity of my stalker.

Sirius was leaned against the grimy wall, twirling his wand in his hands, brows all furrowed as he glanced from the door to me several times. He pointed his wand in the direction I'd come from. "Was—was that _Marls_?" he asked incredulously.

"Alice and Lily are in there too..." I shrugged. The music was still loud, but far enough away that it was possible to have a semi-normal conversation.

Sirius took a step toward me. His hair looked more ruffled than before. "Why was she threatening James?" He looked around as if James was lurking somewhere.

"Because she thinks he's stalking me. It's a long story." It wasn't really a long story I just wanted to hurry things up before she found out the truth.

He frowned and ran a hand through his hair, looking off to the crowd beyond the swirl of fog.

"Everything okay?" I asked.

"You need to let me know the next time you plan to run off."

" _Run off_?" I laughed. He was so dramatic. "I went to the bathroom!"

Sirius was not amused. "You've been gone for at least twenty minutes."

I could feel the annoyance rising within me. "Why does it even matter to you? You've ignored me ever since the concert started! And I didn't see you give _me_ any notice before _you_ 'ran off' to get drunk or whatever it was you were doing—"

" _Drunk_?" Sirius shoved his wand in his pocket and looked thoroughly exasperated. He ran his hands through his hair and looked away, as if to steady himself. "Why do you have to make everything so damn difficult?"

"It's one of my many useless talents."

He turned back to face me but didn't say anything.

I flushed under his intense gaze and looked over his shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me about the party?"

"Because it's stupid."

"The girls invited me. They said it would be fun..."

"You won't like it," he said instantly.

The audacity of this boy... "You don't even know me! For all you know I'm a regular party animal!"

"I know enough." He took a step closer.

I inched back, still trying to keep the defiant look in my eyes.

He leaned closer. "Those parties are just an excuse for everyone to get drunk and high and snog or shag whoever they want... Forgive me, but I didn't think that was quite your scene."

"I..." I hated it when he was right. "It's still rude to not give me a choice in the matter."

He raised an eyebrow, lips quirking into a slight smirk. "Well, I'm an arsehole, what else did you expect?"

I crossed my arms with a huff and leaned against the wall. It was sticky against the exposed skin of my back. I quickly thought better and straightened.

"Stop pouting," He patted the top of my head like I was a little kid. I swatted him away. "If you want to go the damn party that bad, I'll take you... but I reserve the privilege of saying 'I told you so' when you come to your sense."

"Why do you have to be annoying even when you're being nice?" I grumbled.

He laughed. "It's one of my many useless talents."

I shoved his arm softly, smiling a little, despite my annoyance. It only made him laugh more.

"Hey," he said after a moment, ruffling his hair. "I wasn't—I wasn't ignoring you earlier."

"You were with James the whole time then disappeared..." I said watching the harmonica player on stage fumble the instrument and have to pick it up off the floor.

"It didn't have anything to do with you...I—" Sirius took a breath and looked as if he was wrestling within himself. "I don't like crowds," he said almost too quietly for me to hear him.

My mind flashed with the memory of him flinching away from me at the old bookstore. 

"James knows and doesn't make it a big deal," he continued. "But I had to get some air."

I'd thought he was being distant because he didn't want to be around me, because he preferred to be with his friends than with the weird girl he made the mistake of inviting, when in reality he was probably just as anxious as I was.

"I don't like them either," I said.

His head perked up, brows furrowed, looking for a lie. "You looked like you were having a nice time."

"I also _look_ like I don't have freckles," I scoffed.

Sirius's eyes flickered over my face for a fraction of a second longer than necessary, then his mouth broke out into a crooked grin, grey eyes alight. "C'mon," he said grabbing my hand. "I have an idea."

He didn't wait for a reply, already trudging to the back of the venue. What was with everyone feeling the need to drag me places? "Wait! Sirius where are we going?"

He flashed a smile over his shoulder, squeezing my hand a little tighter. "Can't tell. It's a secret."

Maybe it was the light, but for a moment he looked like a mischievous little kid. And that's what it felt like, like we were just two little kids going on an adventure.

Sirius led us through the few stragglers in the back of the venue, then ducked under a velvet rope, that blocked a dark hidden staircase. He held it up for me to do the same. Before we began our climb, I gave one last glance back the direction we came, praying we wouldn't get in trouble.

A blond girl stepping out from the bathroom stared at us from across the crowd. 

Sirius tugged on my hand. "Hurry up, Higgs!"

I turned my back on her and followed after him. 


	13. I'm Terrifying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Mentions of past assault.

"Are you sure it's okay we're up here?" I asked as Sirius helped me climb over a pile of strange rubble on the venues balcony. They were right to rope the place off, it looked as if an explosion had gone off. What must have been nice seating was nothing but splintered wood and charred fabric. 

"Absolutely not," Sirius chuckled. "We'll get kicked out for sure if they find us."

I froze. Sirius sighed. "But they're not _going_ to find us. Security has more important things to worry about."

I frowned, but followed after him all the same. "What's with all this mess anyways?" I asked. 

Sirius didn't answer, climbing around one last pile of rubble towards four, perfectly in-tact, red velvet, theatre seats by the edge of the balcony. After helping me over (which was a real challenge since I kept losing my footing, clinging to his arms to keep from falling on my butt), he hopped into one of the seats and patted the one at his side. 

I let out a breath of relief. No more urban hiking. 

Stubby Boardman and his band, The Hobgoblins, had just taken the stage and strummed out a dramatic E chord. The tiny witches and wizards below us all whooped and hollered. I smiled. Concerts weren't so scary this far away. 

"You never answered me," I said, looking over at Sirius. He had been staring at me.

"I know. I was trying figure out how to explain without freaking you out."

I sighed and slumped back in my chair and looked out at the crowd. "You know, I'm not _that_ big of a wimp. I can handle a scary story."

"There was a death eater attack early last summer."

I sat up and stared at him. He was studying my face, probably trying to gage how much I was freaking out. 

"Really?" I asked.

"Really."

"Were you here when they—"

He shook his head and looked away, readjusting in his own seat. "No, we were supposed to go, but Peter got dragon pox last minute, so we bailed to be with him."

I stayed quiet, looking around at the charred rubble. My dad was an auror, I'd heard plenty about Death Eaters, read the news articles of attacks and rising number of blood purity radicals. But seeing the outcome with my own eyes...

I wanted to ask what happened, if anyone got hurt— if anyone he knew got hurt, but all that came out was— "Why are all the other chairs rubble when these are perfectly fine?"

Sirius let out a surprised laugh and stretched his arms over the backs of the seats, admiring them. "Remus wanted to bring a date up here a while after it happened," he snickered. "So James and I fixed a few up for him. There's actually few more in the back that we used to spy on him."

I blushed as I laughed. So these were intended for dates? I was so relieved to get away from the crowd I hadn't thought about the fact that I was going off all alone with a boy I hardly knew. But this wasn't a date, was it? Not a _real_ one, anyways...

"I doubt he appreciated you spying,."

Sirius barked a laugh. "Oh, he was properly furious. It was brilliant."

Stubby started playing one of his hit songs, ' _Don't hex my heart'_. "I sure hope he got his revenge on you two," I smiled, shaking my head. 

"No worries, he's since spied on James at least twice."

"But not you?" I asked turning to face him. 

His arms were still stretched across the backs of the red velvet cushions. He looked at as if I'd caught him by surprise, but he quickly gained his composure and looked out at the stage. "I don't go on dates."

"What?"

He shrugged. "I don't date." 

" _Ever_?" 

"No."

"Why?"

"Why does it matter?" he asked quickly. 

"I doesn't," I said. I could feel the tension between us. "I guess it makes sense, though. You are kind of a jerk," I shrugged. 

He snorted. "Kind of an _arsehole,_ " he said, sounding more at ease. "Just use the word, Higgs. No one's going to tattle on you."

Like the mature young lady I am, I stuck my tongue out at him. 

He smirked and patted my head again. "Calm down, little one."

I swatted him off once more and he laughed. 

"So, what about you?" he said after a while of watching the concert. "Do you date?"

I blushed. "I-I've been on a date before. Once."

"Ah, yes. I forgot about the American boyfriend. Marty, was it?"

My face flushed even more. "His name is Matty and he's _just_ my friend."

"Then why are you blushing?"

"Because you're trying to embarrass me!" 

His lips tilted into a smirk. He leaned in closer. "If he's just your friend, what's there to be embarrassed about?"

"Because it's like having someone ask if I'm dating my brother— it's just wrong."

His smirk faded a little. "So you and him never..."

"Never what?" I snapped.

"Dated? Kissed?" 

"NO!" 

"Really? _Nothing_?" he asked, bemused. "Not even a cuddle? Suggestive hug?"

" _No_!" My face was positively burning and I was shaking a little from being put on the spot. What in the world was a 'suggestive hug' anyways?

Sirius hummed at this new revelation and sat back in his seat, as if contemplating a new method to torture me. 

"So who'd you go on the date with?" he asked, genuinely interested. 

My stomach sank. "You wouldn't know him."

"You're deflecting," he guessed. "It didn't go well, did it?"

"It's none of your business," I said quickly. 

Sirius watched me, eyes softening. "Fair enough." 

I crossed my arms over my chest and stared at the stage determinately, but I could feel Sirius's gaze. 

"Tucker," I said when Stubby began a nice ballad. 

Sirius sounded like he choked on air. "Sorry, _what_?"

I rounded to face him. "Tucker. The guy I went on a date with was named Tucker..."

Sirius closed his eyes and tiled his head back to laugh. "I thought you were calling me a _fucker_ —"

"NO!" I gasped, horrified. "I didn't— I wouldn't—"

I buried my face in my hands. Ugh, I just kept making a fool out of myself. I should have just kept my mouth shut. 

"Hey, it's alright," he said, quieter, but still trying to not laugh. He placed a hand on my shoulder, I flinched. "Seriously, don't get all out of sorts. It'd hardly be the first time I'd been called that."

I pulled my hands away and stared at him desperately. "But that's not what I _said_. I said Tucker."

I was acutely aware of his hand still on my shoulder. Warm, steady. "If you say so," he smirked and moved his hand away. "So tell me about this fucker Tucker. Was he fit?"

I pushed him. "I'll stop, I'll stop," he laughed, putting his hands up in defense. 

I crossed my arms over my chest once more. I couldn't look at him, even if he was just joking. "He was a Thunderbird— it's one of the houses at our school— and he was really outgoing, you know? Kind of a class clown... We had Charms together and he got moved to the seat behind me and he used to talk to me sometimes..." 

I paused waiting for Sirius to make a joke or something, about him 'charming me in charms' but he didn't. He was just watched me patiently, brows slightly furrowed. 

I looked away again, hand tracing over the paisley print on my dress. "Anyways... One day after class he asked me if I wanted to go to town that weekend and see a movie. I'm so stupid though, I didn't even realize it was a date until I told Matty about it."

"So you just went to the movies?" Sirius asked. "I thought it'd be worse than that..."

I sighed. "It _was_ worse."

"Let me guess. It was an action movie?"

"Horror."

"Yikes. What happened?"

Why had I started the whole conversation? Why was I talking to him about this? This was one of the most embarrassing things that had ever happened to me and and here I was yapping about it to this jerk? Only... Sirius wasn't really a jerk. Not really. Not all the time. When I talked, he listened— well, when it was important, at least. Maybe I wasn't used to people really listening... 

"It started out okay... We went out for enchiladas with some of his friends before. But when we got to the movie we sat by ourselves way up at the top. I didn't complain because I don't like scary movies to begin with... I didn't realize..."

"What happened?" Sirius asked again. 

Why was I telling him this?

"He tried to kiss me." 

Sirius studied my face. "That's it?"

I blinked and my heart raced. I looked away at the concert without really seeing anything. "Yeah, he tried to kiss me, I said no. That's it. It was embarrassing."

"You're _sure_ that's what happened?"

He didn't believe me. I didn't know if I was glad or upset that he caught me in a lie. I could literally _feel_ him looking at me, burning a hole into my head, as if he was trying to perform _Legilimency_.

"I—" I turned and couldn't see anything except grey eyes. "He _did_ try to kiss me and I _did_ say no..."

Sirius took a long breath. "Fucker didn't listen, did he?"

I blinked and shook my head. Why was I telling him this? I hadn't told anyone that part...Not even Matty. Partially out of shame... but also because Matty would have tried to kill him. 

"I tried to push him off, but I'm not that strong—" My skin crawled thinking about him pawing at me, clammy hands all over me, his hot breath in my mouth, reeking of the stale enchiladas we'd eaten for dinner. "I tried to kick at him and ended up knocking the chair of the old lady in front of us. She started cursing at him and I ran out before he could go any further." 

Sirius didn't say anything and I still couldn't bare to look at him. "I know I'm so stupid. I should have known."

"Don't say that," he snapped, voice low.

I turned around to face him. He looked terrifying. Eyes blazing, jaw tight. He was gripping the back of the chair, knuckles white. 

" _What_ should you have known? Should have known you'd get _assaulted_?" he asked. "You were on a date. It's not stupid to expect the bloke to treat you like a fucking human."

My lip quivered. He was right. He was absolutely right but the whole conversation was overwhelming and bringing up a whole bout of memories I thought I'd blotted out of existence. 

I stared at the concert and swallowed the lump welling up in my throat. 

_Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry,_ I chanted in my head, not even listening to Stubby's songs. 

"My family supports Death Eaters," Sirius blurted out. 

My breath caught and I peeled my eyes away from the stage. "What kind of sick joke is that?"

"Not a joke. They're mad, the whole lot of them." 

He must have seen the unasked question in my expression. Why was he telling me this? 

"You told me something really personal— figured you should know," he shrugged, not meeting my eyes. "Makes things even."

"But you don't... I mean _you're_ not like that..."

"Course not!" he scoffed. "But I'm a bit of a black sheep..."

There was an anger that seemed to radiate though the cool expression on his face. A kind of swirling static of magic I'd experienced when I'd spied on him from the rooftop. "Were they the reason that you were so angry that night?"

His head whipped toward me. "What?"

"Before Matty sent the howler. I know you saw me on the roof. You were so upset... It was because of them, wasn't it?"

He clenched his jaw and looked like he wanted to be anywhere else, but he didn't look away. "Yeah, it was because of them."

"And it's the reason you've been avoiding Marls."

He hesitated. "It's one of the reasons."

I was testing my luck. "What... What happened?"

He sighed and leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes closed. " _Fuck_ ," he said under his breath. 

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"It's not that," he grumbled. "I _want_ to tell you... that's the problem." 

What was _that_ supposed to mean? I stared at him, mute, hoping he'd elaborate. 

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "They sent a howler while we were eating fucking dinner. It was horrible."

"Oh... If it was horrible, why are you laughing?"

"Because every time I talk to you I end up spilling my secrets." He sat up and leaned in, looking me dead in the eyes. "You're bloody terrifying. I don't know what else to do but laugh."

" _Terrifying_?" I laughed in disbelief. "You think _I'm_ terrifying."

His gaze flickered down lower on my face, then up to my eyes. "Yeah."

"Why?" 

"I just told you. Every time I talk you I just blurt out stuff I'm not supposed to say."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, I do that all the time."

Again he looked down then back up chuckling softly. "Yeah, I noticed."

I don't know if he scooted in closer or if I did. 

"Do you really want to go to that party later?" he asked. 

"Kind of." I didn't want to go. I just wanted to keep hanging out with him

"I forgot you're a total party animal, aren't you," he smirked. "You'll probably ditch me to go snog some random mysterious British boy."

"Sirius," I said. He hummed in reply. "I don't know what the word snog means."

He barked a laugh, breath warm on my face. "Kiss, Higgs. It means kiss."

"Oh... " I flushed and let out a hoarse embarrassed laugh, my stomach flipping. "No, I'm too scary. I make all the mysterious British boys run away."

He nodded sagely. "You've made a valid point. Simply terrifying."

"You're not supposed to agree with me!" I laughed for real this time and I made to thwack at the nearest part of him I could find, which happened to be his chest. 

"See! You're so violent!" He laughed and half-heartedly tried to bat me away as I giggled. "An absolute _menace_!" 

"Oi! Padfoot! You up here?" A voice from beyond the rubble.

Sirius sat up, smile falling instantly. His hands, which had been loosely restraining my wrists, let go. " _Shite_!" he hissed.

I glanced over at the stage below, "Concert's still going...?"

Sirius shushed me. 

"Padfoot?" the voice called again, more suspicious.

"I'm—" Sirius looked at me and then sighed in resignation, running a hand through his hair. "We're over here, Moony."

" _We_?" Remus's head popped up over the pile of chair carcasses. "Oh. Hi, Paisley!"

I waved, blushing as I remembered how he'd never spied Sirius on a date before. Not that this was a date... technically. I doubted Remus knew that. 

"James thought you might have left," Remus said, leaping over the junk with a practiced ease despite his gangly limbs. 

"I don't like crowds," I blurted out. 

"Don't blame you. Getting a little raucous down there, even for me." He smiled softly, eyes flickering between the two of us. "Lily said you're going to the party with us later?" he said as casual as could be, plopping himself into the chair beside me, propping his long legs up on the railing.

"Maybe," Sirius answered. 

I turned and gave Sirius a pointed look, holding back a smile at the thought our previous little play-fight.

His eyes softened and his lips twitched. "Probably," he amended. 

I grinned. 

"I see..." Remus said slowly. 

Sirius cleared his throat and tried to school his face into something more stoic. "You going?" he asked Remus. 

Remus leaned his head back and closed his eyes. I could see the dark circles shadowing atop sallow skin. Lily was right, he looked like he was coming down with something. "I dunno. Probably," he shrugged. "If everyone else is going."

"We could just go back to the Potter's," Sirius suggested. "Hang out there. Watch some of that muggle show Mr. Potter keeps on tape."

"James wants to go," Remus sighed, rubbing his eyes. "He's not going to trade a chance at chatting up Lily for Doctor Who. Plus, I think Pete's planning to sneak out and we can't just leave him there to fend for himself."

"I'm not babysitting drunk Peter," Sirius grumbled.

"I'm not babysitting drunk James," Remus chuckled. "You take James and I'll watch Pete. But who's going to babysit you?"

"Not drinking," Sirius said cooly. 

I felt awkward watching the conversation going back and forth across me... even more awkward when Remus laughed. "Right, okay..."

"I'm not."

"Next you're going to tell me you're giving up the stupid motorbike as well?"

"Oi! Don't speak blasphemy against my Cassandra!" 

I snorted. "Cassandra?" 

"That's her name," Sirius said grumpily.

"Cassandra is the only one to worm her way into his cold, cold heart," Remus whispered. 

Sirius reached around and whacked Remus upside the head. "Don't listen to him. He's just jealous his dad won't let him get one."

Remus shrugged. "Fair point."

Stubby began playing another one of his hits, ' _Niffler Ran Away With My Heart'_ and the three of us entered into a comfortable silence, enjoying the show. 

Only I couldn't keep from squirming. 

And neither, it seemed, could Sirius. 

"Rem, you staying the rest of the show?" Sirius asked Remus behind my head. 

"Yeah," Remus said easily. "Unless... you want to be alone...?" he added. 

"No, no it's cool," Sirius said quickly. "Got to run down to the loo. Didn't want to leave Higgs all on her own."

"Oh, yeah. You go. I'll stay with her."

Sirius nodded and gave my shoulder a discreet squeeze as he climbed over the back and over the pile of broken furniture. 

Remus watched him go... and as soon as he was out of sight, reached in his pocket and pulled out what must have been— "Candy?" I said, amused. 

"Shh... Don't tell Sirius or he'll hog it all for himself."

He shook a few sugary gumdrop- esque candies into my hand. "Do any of these have strawberry in them?" I asked. 

Remus squinted at the back of the box. "No, pretty sure these are just lemon... is that alright?"

I popped one in my mouth. "Perfect." 

"So you and Sirius, huh?" he said quietly. 

"What?" I said, hand over my mouth as I nearly choked on the candy.

He smirked. "Never caught Sirius on a date before."

"Oh, we're not on a date," I chuckled despite my blush. 

Remus's smirk softened into a smile. I don't think he believed me. "Hmm... My mistake. Want some more?" 

"Yes please." He rattled a few more of the lemon gumdrops in my hand.

I glanced up at the messy pile of debris. "What's up between Sirius and Marls?" I asked before the sensible part of my brain could stop me. 

Remus sighed deeply, brows furrowed. When I'd first met him, I thought he looked a little like Matty, but now he reminded me more of an old man. In a good way. Young old man. Old soul? Whatever, hopefully you get what I'm trying to say. 

"You want the truth?"

"No, please, please lie to me."

Remus chuckled at my sarcasm. "Truth, I don't know everything. They're both beaters on the Quidditch team, and..." he hesitated. "Pretty sure she fancies him."

"That's it?"

He raised his eyebrows, surprised. "Well..." he sighed, pausing as if to choose his words carefully. "You didn't hear it from me... but I heard a rumor they may have snogged at the quidditch championship party before school got out. But that's just a rumor, mind."

Snogged... kissed. He'd kissed her...Maybe. My stomach flipped, and not in the good way. In the sinking way, as if it was trying to drag me by my intestines into a blackhole. I felt so embarrassed. I was probably making a total fool out of myself. My brain kept screaming that it would be Tucker all over again. That I should just tell him to take me home.

But Sirius was nothing like Tucker. 

Still, I couldn't get the mental image of him and her out of my head. 

I shouldn't have even cared. It's not like we were on a date. It's not like he'd even considered me in that way.

But hadn't he? I was an idiot, I'll be the first to admit it, but did I imagine all the flirting before? And we'd talked about things, things we didn't with other people. Even Remus thought there was something going on... 

"Yes, lemon drops!" Sirius cheered, snatching the box out of remus's hands and climbing over the chair once more. Only two rattled out of the box. His face fell and he threw the box at Remus. 

Remus smiled smugly, cramming the trash back into his pocket as he stood. "That's what you get for being a thief."

"I thought you were staying?" Sirius said. 

Remus smiled his usual blithe smile checking his watch, "It's probably going to be wrapping up here soon, also I'm mildly afraid James will start a search party if we both go missing for too long. I'll see you at the party, though."

"Maybe," Sirius said. 

"Probably," I corrected. 

"Right," Remus smirked and with that he went a climbing over the broken seats. 

I sat awkwardly at Sirius's side. 

"Higgs, you alright?" he said after a moment. 

I nodded, keeping my eyes on the concert. I was still trying to not imagine him kissing Marls. Trying to not care if he had.

He placed a hand on my wrist, slowly. Slow enough and soft enough that I could have pulled away if I wanted to. "Hey, look at me."

I slowly shifted so that we were face to face. 

"You okay? Really?" he asked. 

I nodded, trying to throw in a smile, but I don't think it did the job. 

"We don't have to go to the party," he said, misinterpreting my awkwardness. "The girls will understand. There's going to be other, more sober activities where you can hang out, I promise."

I didn't want to go to the party, but I was afraid if I didn't that would mean my night with him would be over... And who knew when I'd see him again. I was his Marls shield that night, but he wouldn't need me forever. And sure there might be more wholesome social events, but if he didn't invite me, who would? Certainly not James. And as nice as the girls were, I doubted they'd go out of their way to seek me out. 

Which would leave me not just alone, but lonely. 

But instead of saying any of this, I said: "Am I the reason you're not going to drink?"

He blinked. "What?"

"You told Remus you weren't going to drink. Are you afraid I'm going to judge you or something? Because I won't— Okay, maybe just a _little_ because it's illegal. But I wouldn't hold it against you in general. You don't have to pretend to be something you're not. Not around me." 

Sirius chuckled. "Well, that's nice to know, Higgs... truly. But that's not why... not exactly."

I blushed. "Oh."

His hand gave my wrist a little squeeze. "If I'm going to take you some place, I'd rather have all my mental faculties in fully functioning order. Got to be on my guard to keep you out of trouble... No offense, but you're a little helpless and prone to wandering off—"

"I didn't wander off— I went to the _bathroom_! And I'm not _helpless_!" 

Sirius smirked. "Ah and we're back to you thinking I'm an arsehole. All is right in the world."

"I'm not helpless," I scowled. "I'm terrifying."

Sirius snorted, trying to hold in his amusement for all of two and a half seconds before bursting out laughing so hard and so loud that I was sure someone downstairs would have heard us if Stubby hadn't been in the middle of his grande finale. 

"Okay, okay. You don't have to laugh _that_ hard," I grumbled. 

"Sorry to break it to you, but your reign of terror begins and ends with me, love," he laughed, standing up, blissfully unaware of the butterflies he'd unleashed on my stomach. "C'mon— let's get you to your bloody party." 


End file.
